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FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES 



HVE 
ONE^ACT COMEDIES 



By 
LAWRENCE LANGNER 



Introduction by 
ST. JOHN ERVINE 



STEWART St KIDD 




ONCPWA-U q S. A. 



CINCINNATI 

STEWART KIDD COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 



Copyright, 1921 
STEWART KIDD COMPANY 




1^\ 



All Rights Reserved 






These plays are fully protected by copyright in the United States, 
Great Britain and Colonies, and countries of the Berne Conven- 
tion. For permission to produce any of these plays application 
must be made to the author, who holds both the professional and 
amateur stage rights, and who may be addressed in care of the 
publishers, Stewart Kidd, Cincinnati, Ohio. 



Printed in the United States of America 

The Caxton Press 

**Everybody for Books." This is one of the Interlaken Library. 



JAN 22 '23 

fP) ri A ft Q 9. fi 7 2 



TO 
ESTELLE LANGNER 



I wish to thank my friend Philip Moeller, of the Iheatre Guild of 

New York, who produced most of these plays, for his helpful 

advice and suggestions. 



CONTENTS 

Page 

Preface 9 

Matinata 15 

Another Way Out 45 

The Family Exit 79 

Pie 107 

Licensed 141 



PREFACE 

Lawrence Langner, the author of these plays, 
is a typical American: he was born in Europe; 
and like all typical Americans, he is not happy 
outside New York. If he were a casual American, 
one who is American merely through accident of 
birth, he would probably prefer to spend his time 
in London or Paris, mugging-up European cul- 
ture in the hope that some of it might stick 
to him, but since he is a typical American and 
has wished for Americanization instead of hav- 
ing it wished on him, he spends his time at the 
unfashionable end of Fifth Avenue, trying to 
develop a culture which derives, not from Europe, 
but from Cape Cod. He will not live to see an 
American culture which does not derive from the 
Old World, but at least he and the group, whose 
most interesting member is Mr. Eugene O'Neill, 
are doing much to make the way easier for a more 
definitely American culture to establish itself. 
There are obvious dangers which may overwhelm 
these pioneers, such as arrogance and argumenta- 
tiveness and smugness and self-satisfaction and 
a disproportionate view of things and, above all, a 
tendency to imagine that the new and disorderly 
thing is better than the orderly and old; but if 
the pioneers have sound constitutions, they will 
survive them. It is easier, perhaps, for an Irish- 
man to be aware of these dangers than for anyone 
else because he sees them manifested so clearly in 
his own country where pettifogging patriotism has 

9 



PREFACE 



reached such a state of sickening smugness that 
the Irish people, the only people in the world who 
made a profit out of the War, thrust their aca- 
demic grievances upon the consideration of a 
wounded world as if they were of greater im- 
portance than those of the rest of humanity put 
together. Millions of Austrians and Russians 
may die of starvation and infectious disease; 
the whole of Central Europe may sink into misery 
and ruin, while the rest of Europe wonders how 
long it can manage to keep up appearances; but 
none of these things matter to Ireland, which 
behaved during the War like an hysterical woman 
who should rush into the presence of a man bleed- 
ing to death and exclaim, *'My God, IVe got a 
toothache!" 

These plays deal with the problem of marriage 
and the problem of family life, and are the kind 
of plays which are only written by a man who is 
happily married and peculiarly responsive to the 
ties of kindred. The thesis of them is the quite 
admirable one that the ceremony of marriage is 
not a sort of yardstick by which we can accurately 
measure human relationships. I do not know how 
many persons there are in the world who look 
upon the institution of marriage as a rigid mould 
into which all sorts of couples can be poured in the 
sure and certain hope that they will be equally 
comfortable in it; but I doubt whether the number 
is large. We may prettify the ceremony of mar- 
riage by calling it a sacrament indissoluble ex- 
cept by death, but we do not allow the prettiness 
of that idea to prevent us from making allowance 
for the contingency of divorce. The accumulated 

lO 



PREFACE 

experience of mankind shows that some sort of 
legal regulation of marriage is necessary if we are 
to get through the business of existence without 
being harassed by the details of it. The rule of the 
road was made, not to annoy and hamper people, 
but to enable all of us, the slow and swift, to get 
to our destination with as Httle misadventure as 
possible; and so far is it from limiting the swift 
to the pace of the slow that it actually enables 
the swift to get ahead of the slow without in- 
flicting hardship on the latter. If there were 
no rule of the road, traffic would not be in progres- 
sion, but in collision. What is true of the rule of 
the road is equally true of the institution of mar- 
riage, and all the complaints that are made of 
it, such, for example as are made of it in these 
plays, are really complaints about the per- 
sons who are parties to it rather than complaints 
about the thing itself. The free lovers in Another 
Way Out would not be living any more or less 
happily in the bonds of matrimony than they are 
in the bonds of unlegalized marriage. I have 
heard of couples, living, as the technical terni goes, 
in sin, who quarrel as frequently and as bitterly 
as any couple that ever got themselves blessed 
by a holy father in a church! I can see no way 
of removing the disabilities of marriage otherwise 
than by removing the human race or by de- 
sexing it. Marriage is, and must always be, a 
makeshift business in which two dissimilar per- 
sons agree to put up a decent pretence of identical 
desires and to make the best of a bad job by 
being as tolerant of each other as they can. It is 
a terrible strain on a man to live with a woman: 

II 



PREFACE 

it is an equally terrible strain on a woman to live 
with a man; and resonable recognition of that fact 
will make the relationship of husband and wife 
a fairly endurable one. But the difficulties in 
the way of making the relationship tolerable are 
not to be overcome by the hocus-pocus of mysti- 
cism or materialism. The priest who tries to per- 
suade us to believe that marriage is a sort of 
magical rite whereby discordant elements are 
made completely accordant is not any sillier than 
the Greenwich Villager who tries to persuade us 
that we have only got to dispense with the mar- 
riage ceremony altogether in order to achieve 
happiness. I remember, when I was in New York, 
meeting some very clever women who were found- 
ing a society to persuade married women to retain 
their maiden names. They said that it was de- 
grading to a woman to abandon her maiden name 
in favor of that of her husband, and they appealed 
to women to assert their individuality, which 
consisted, seemingly, in the maiden name. Mrs. 
John Jones was much less of an individual than 
Miss Maggie Smith! I suggested to my friends 
that they were making a great deal of pother 
about nothing. Apart from the social convenience 
of a man and a woman who share the same bed 
sharing the same name — for it must surely be a 
little awkward when Mr. John Jones and Miss 
Maggie Smith turn up at an hotel and ask for 
a room for the night — I failed to see why it was 
degrading for a woman to bear the name of the 
man to whom she was willing to bear children, 
particularly as she had chosen him of her own free 
will, and not degrading to bear the name of her 

12 



PREFACE 

father whom she had not chosen, whom, indeed, 
she might prefer to be without. A great deal 
of the intellectual revolt against convention is 
very like that, and the only safe and comforting 
rule of conduct for all of us is the belief that in- 
stitutions which have survived centuries of ex- 
perience are, on the whole, good institutions; 
for mankind has an extraordinary capacity for 
getting rid of customs and manners which are 
useless to it. 

As to the plays themselves, considered as plays 
and not as arguments, I find in them a sense of 
comedy which is concerned more with situations 
than with people. I have seen one of them per- 
formed, the jolly little play, called Pie, in which 
Langner's incorrigible domesticity is manifested, 
and it came over the footlights naturally and easily, 
rousing laughter and interest. I feel that each of 
the other plays will act as well as Pie did. 

In case anyone reading this preface and then 
reading the plays, imagines that Langner is a 
sort of cut-throat with a mania for tearing thmgs 
to pieces, I would like to add that, in addition to 
being a typical American, he is a man of morbidly 
respectable character, leading a life of such hum- 
drum convention that the goings-on at a Methodist 
tea party seem orgiastic in comparison with it. 
His career when set out might be used by the 
younger Rockefeller as an example to the mem- 
bers of his Bible class. He is conventionally and 
happily married; he is conventionally and proudly 
the father of a charming daughter; and he is con- 
ventionally and irresistibly conscious of family 
ties. He is the most conventional man I know, 

13 



PREFACE 

with a capacity for sentimental indulgence which 
makes me, another sentimentalist, feel brutal- 
minded by comparison. His tastes are simple to 
the point of austerity. He drinks so little that 
one feels he does so only to show his contempt for 
prohibition, that sign of a servile race. If all of us 
consumed as little tobacco as he does, the to- 
bacco planters would be ruined men. The only 
defect in his character, from the point of view of 
the younger Rockefeller, is that he writes plays 
and is associated with theatrical enterprises; 
but even in this hellish business, he contrives 
to behave himself in a way that is considered 
commendable by the Y. M. C. A., for the theater 
which he helps to govern, the Garrick, in West 
35th Street, where the Theater Guild of New York 
has its home, is the only intellectual theater in 
the world which is a commercial success. 

St. John Ervine. 
London, November, 1921. 



14 



MATINATA 

A COMEDY IN ONE ACT 



Matinata* was first produced by the Provincetown 
Players November i, 1920, at the Playwrights' The- 
atre, New York, with the following cast: 

Columbine Norma Millay 

Pierrot James Light 

Harlequin Sydney Powell 

* Owing to the general mispronunciation of the original title, 
"Mattinata," I have anglicized the spelling of the Italian word. 

L. L. 



Copyright, 1921 

By LAWRENCE LANGNER 

AU Rights Reserved 



MATINATA 

(A MORNING SONG) 
SCENE 

A small room in a large city^ in which Pierrot 
and Columbine make their home. The room is 
neither kitchen^ bedroom^ nor living-room; but 
it serves as all three; it isy in fact, a room of a char- 
acter which is denied to the rich. 

There is a bed-couch^ left front; door leading to 
the bathroom^ left rear; window ^ left center wall^ 
bed-couch against center wall; kitchen sink and 
gas stove ^ right center wall; cupboard with dishes 
and chest of drawers against right wall rear; and 
door leading to staircase to street^ right front. 
In the center are a small table and a few chairs, 

Pierrot is in bed; his head lies near the window. 
Columbine is bustling around^ setting the table on 
which she has already placed some of the breakfast 
dishes. 

COLUMBINE (to Picrrot) 

Breakfast is nearly ready, Pierrot! Do wake 
up. {Pierrot takes no notice. Columbine goes 
over to sit on the bed,) Don't you want some 
coffee? {Pierrot grunts,) I'm making a lovely 
breakfast for you, Pierrot. 

PIERROT {sleepily) 
All right, dear! Fm getting up. {She waits 
expectantly; he rolls over and goes back to sleep,) 

17 



FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES 

COLUMBINE 

Fm going to stay here and bother you until 
you get up! See! Tm a mosquito! Tm buzzing 
around you! Buzz, buzz, buzz!!! {She kisses 
him,) Vra going to bite you! {She attempts 
to bite him,) 

PIERROT 

Do go away, dear! Can't you see Fm making 
up my mind to get up? It takes time. {He 
turns over so that his head is covered up, and all 
one can see of him is his hunched-up back.) 

COLUMBINE 

You'll never make up your mind! You know 
you've lots of things to do today. Please get 
up, Pierrot ! Please do ! {She begins to pull the 
bedclothes of him,) 

PIERROT 

Do leave me alone ! Fm getting up. {He winds 

the covers around him,) 

COLUM*BINE 

But breakfast! 

PIERROT 

I don't want any breakfast. {He settles down 
in the bed in a determined manner^ 

COLUMBINE {hurt) 

Very well! 

{She goes over to the gas stove and pours hot 
water into the coffee-pot. She looks over at 
Pierrot to see whether her new attitude will 
make any difference. It does not. She pulls 
up the blinds. She puts the coffee-pot on the table 
with a thud and sits down^ moving her chair 

i8 



MATINATA 



noisily. She pours herself a cup oj cojffee. Pier- 
rot raises his head.) 

PIERROT {cheerfully) 
Hello! 

{Columbine drinks her cofee with great intensity^ 

PIERROT {shouting) 

Didn't you hear what I said? 
COLUMBINE {coldly) 

What did you say? 

PIERROT 

I said, "Hello!" 

COLUMBINE 

IVe heard you say that before. Do you know 
what time it is? 

PIERROT 

No! 

COLUMBINE 

It's nearly eleven o'clock. 

PIERROT 

Now, why did you tell me that? IVe slept only 
— let me see — six hours. You're very irritating! 

COLUMBINE 

I meant to be. 

PIERROT 

Very well. I shall go back to sleep. {He lies 
back on the bed.) 

COLUMBINE 

I don't care. Your company isn't so charming, 
after all. 

PIERROT 

I have a lovely idea for a song. If I could write 
it, I might be able to sell it for a hundred dol- 
lars. 

19 



FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES 

COLUMBINE 

If only you could! 

PIERROT 

What couldn't we do with a hundred dollars! 
I know! We could go to a hotel and have break- 
fast, lunch, and dinner served in our room so 
we could stay in bed all day. I wish I could re- 
member that song. Confound you. Columbine, 
why did you bother me! I was half dream- 
ing of it — and now youVe made me forget it. 
{He sits up.) It was a song to the dawn — 
"Matinata"! 

COLUMBINE 

What do you know about the dawn ? 

PIERROT 

There is a great mystery about the dawn. It is 
seen only by people with very good habits, 
or by people with very bad habits. 

COLUMBINE 

It isn't difficult to see where you belong! 

PIERROT 

Isn't it? Well, I've never seen the dawn — that 
is, not for years! 

COLUMBINE 

You were out all night last Monday. Didn't 
you see it then ? 

PIERROT 

No, I was playing poker. I think I shall get up. 

COLUMBINE 

I've finished my breakfast. 

PIERROT 

Isn't that fine! Just in time to get me mine! 

COLUMBINE 

I shall do nothing of the sort. 

20 



MATINATA 



PIERROT {pleading) 

But, Columbine, dear! I'm so hungry. IVe 
had nothing to eat since two o'clock — and now 
it's eleven. 

COLUMBINE 

You should have gotten up when I called you ! 

PIERROT 

My Columbine angry with me? Don't be 
angry, sweetheart. Your mouth is like a red 
rosebud when you smile — but when you're 
angry it gets thin, like a long, red worm. 

COLUMBINE 

Ugh! How can you say my mouth's like a 
worm! 
PIERROT {struck with the thought) 
A worm may hide in the reddest rose! 

COLUMBINE 

I'm angry with you! 

PIERROT 

I didn't say your mouth was like that. {Gaily) 
I meant I wanted you to smile — to be happy. 
It's morning, the sun is up! 

COLUMBINE 

It's been up for hours. 
PIERROT {gaily jumping out of bed) 
And so am I! Here is your penitent Pierrot! 
If you'll only forgive me, I'll go to bed early, 
sleep all night, get up with the dawn, and bring 
you your breakfast in bed! Won't you like 
that? {He takes of his py jama jacket^ disclosing 
his costume underneath.) 

COLUMBINE 

It would be lovely — but it'll never happen! 
Goodness me, you've slept in your clothes! 

21 



FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES 

PIERROT 

Yes, I was too tired to take them off. Do they 
look bad ? 

COLUMBINE 

The coat's creased terribly. I shall have to 
put the iron on. You can't go out looking like 
that! {She goes over to the stove and puts on an 
iron.) 
PIERROT {pulling on his stockings) 

Columbine, you are a dear! I don't deserve you. 
I know I don't. {He looks around helplessly^ 
Where are my shoes? 

COLUMBINE 

I don't know. I didn't take them off. Look 
where you least expect to find them. 

{Pierrot looks in his bed^ under his pillow^ and 
finally under the bed, where he finds them.) 

PIERROT 

What are you going to give me for breakfast? 

COLUMBINE 

Would you like boiled eggs ? 
PIERROT {with disgust) 

Eggs! Oh, Columbine, how could you suggest 
eggs? I want something dainty, something 
with a French name, that will waft its way 
gently into my insides. 

COLUMBINE 

I suppose you've been drinking! 

PIERROT 

Not more than was necessary! 

COLUMBINE 

I'll make you an omelette. 

22 



MATINATA 



PIERROT 

The French name! And it must be a frothy 
one — clusters of air bubbles coated with egg! 
COLUMBINE {sighing) 
I shall have to dirty three extra dishes. 

PIERROT 

That makes me think of something. I know! 
I haven't washed! 
COLUMBINE {breaking the eggs into a dish) 

Hurry, please! You'll begin to dress yourself 
just when I have everything ready for you. 

PIERROT 

Don't hurry me. Columbine. There should be 
something dignified about the way a man pre- 
pares himself for the day. If he hurries and 
skurries, it makes him fretful and nervous. A 
great opportunity may come to me today, if I 
preserve a calm in my soul. Would you have 
me miss it, just so as not to keep breakfast 
waiting for a few moments.^ 

COLUMBINE 

But you said you were hungry! 

PIERROT 

I am hungry. {Rises.) But I have a dignified 
hunger. I shall enter the bathroom with a 
stately air. Thus shall I begin the day and so 
shall I end it. {Pierrot goes into the bathroom.) 

{Columbine sighs, takes the egg-beater, mixes the 
omelette and pours it into a pan. She puts the 
cofee-pot back on the stove. Enter Pierrot, 
mopping his face with a towel. He dries it, then 
stands up and exercises listlessly for a few 
moments^ using knife and fork as dumb-bells. 

23 



FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES 

He then tries rising up and down, hands on hips, 
body stiff; gets down but fails to rise; he staggers 
up. He repeats this twice, and finally Jails into 
a chair at the tabled 

PIERROT 

Well! Where's the omelette? 

COLUMBINE 

It isn't ready yet. 

PIERROT 

Tm hungry. 

COLUMBINE 

Eat some bread. 

PIERROT 

Where is it? 

COLUMBINE 

Over here. 

PIERROT 

Well, why don't you bring it to me? 

COLUMBINE 

Can't you get it yourself? 

PIERROT 

Don't you see I'm sitting down to my break- 
fast? You've been hurrying me the whole 
morning, and now I'm here it isn't ready — . 

COLUMBINE 

It is ready. See, the omelette is done. {She 
puts it on his plate ^ 

PIERROT 

Where's the salt? 

COLUMBINE 

Here you are! 

24 



MATINATA 



PIERROT 

And the bread. Do bring the bread! 

{She hands him the bread,) 

\ 

COLUMBINE 

You are bad tempered this morning. 

PIERROT 

Tm not. {He eats the omelette ravenously.) 
COLUMBINE {sitting at the table) 
Do you like the omelette? 

PIERROT 

It's all right. I nearly had that song. Listen: — 
"Rose-colored Dawn, 
My heart's forlorn — 
Do you like that? 

COLUMBINE 

I don't. First of all, a dawn's not rose-colored; 
and, secondly, the idea's absolutely unoriginal! 

PIERROT 

You do tell the truth terribly! 

COLUMBINE 

You need someone to tell you the truth. 

PIERROT 

Those weren't the words I was thinking of 
in bed. If you don't like them, it's your own 
fault for waking me up. What I said just now 
was inspired by the omelette. 

COLUMBINE 

Don't be stupid, Pierrot. If I waked you up, 
it was because I had to. I've worked all the 
week and now it's your turn. There isn't a 
thing in the place to eat. 

PIERROT 

Wouldn't it be wonderful if we could school 

25 



FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES 

ourselves to live without food; one could do it 
gradually. After all, material functions are 
merely matters of habit. 

COLUMBINE 

I wish you'd get the habit of working! 
PIERROT {hopelessly) 
Oh, dear! {He stretches.) 

COLUMBINE 

You kicked me — right on the leg! 
PIERROT {indiferently) 
Did I? 

COLUMBINE 

Yes. You might say you're sorry. 
PIERROT {sharply) 

I suppose I am sorry. Is it necessary to say so? 
COLUMBINE {indignantly) 

It certainly is! 
PIERROT {equally indignant) 

I might say equally, why did you have your leg 

in my way? My desire to stretch was frustrated 

— and by your leg! 

COLUMBINE 

Do you mean you're not sorry ? 

PIERROT 

I mean that if your leg hadn't been there, I 

wouldn't have kicked it. 
COLUMBINE {angrily) 

Where should I put my leg? 
PIERROT {more angrily still) 

Somewhere where it wouldn't be in my way! 
COLUMBINE {rising) 

Look here, Pierrot, I've just about had enough 

of you. You don't care what you do, or what 



you say! 



26 



MATINATA 



PIERROT {angrily) 

I suppose I don't! Well, Tm going. {He puts 

on his hat,) 
COLUMBINE {alarmed) 

Where are you going? 
PIERROT {bitterly) 

To work. To sell my immortality for a mess of 

pottage. 

COLUMBINE 

But I haven't ironed your coat — it is all creased. 
You look disreputable. 

PIERROT 

I don't care how I look. 

COLUMBINE 

And you haven't finished your breakfast. 

PIERROT 

I'm not going to finish it. 

{He goes out, slamming the door. Columbine 
sits at the table and weeps. After a pause, enter 
Harlequin, He stands at the door,) 

HARLEQUIN {with uplomb) 

Good morning! 
COLUMBINE {through her tears) 

Hello, Harlequin! 

HARLEQUIN 

Is that all you say to me, just "Hello"? Aren't 
you glad to see me ? 
COLUMBINE {tearfully) 
Yes, Harlequin! 

{Harlequin approaches her.) 

HARLEQUIN 

What's the matter? You're crying. 

27 



FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES 



COLUMBINE (tearfully) 
Yes, Harlequin. 

HARLEQUIN 

Why are you crying? It's not over me, is it? 

COLUMBINE 

No, Harlequin. 
HARLEQUIN (disappointed) 
No ? Oh ! I thought it was ! 

COLUMBINE 

Why, Harlequin? 

HARLEQUIN 

Well, I know I haven't been very nice to you 
lately. But it's all over now. Columbine. Tell 
me what you've been crying about. 

COLUMBINE 

I don't ^now. 

(Harlequin takes her hand,) 

HARLEQUIN (sympathetically) 
Won't you tell Harlequin ? Perhaps he can help 
you. 

COLUMBINE 

Oh, Harlequin, it's — it's Pierrot! (She weeps 
again.) 

HARLEQUIN 

It's too bad, dear. Pierrots are the same the 
world over. You may thank your stars that 
wherever there's a Pierrot, you'll always find 
a Harlequin for consolation! 

COLUMBINE 

Fd like you to console me. Harlequin, but I 
don't think it would be right. 

HARLEQUIN 

Oh, yes it would. Harlequins are quite neces- 

28 



MATINATA 



sary to the world. The Pierrots would be quite 
unbearable without them. And now tell me, 
what has Pierrot been doing? 

COLUMBINE (tearfully) 
It's what he hasn't been doing. 

HARLEQUIN 

Oh! Neglecting you! 

COLUMBINE 

Neglecting himself. Wasting his time. Going 
to parties, staying up late, working only when 
he has to. He's so — so inefficient with him- 
self. 

HARLEQUIN 

Not with himself. Columbine, but with you. 
Columbine dear, if you were my wife, how I 
would devote myself to you! It would be the 
greatest pleasure for me to do little things for 
you, to make your life easier, instead of com- 
plicating it as Pierrot does. You make yourself 
a slave to him; you spoil him. 

COLUMBINE 

I know I do. He went away just now and left 
everything for me to do. The dishes aren't 
washed, the beds aren't made. He didn't get 
up till eleven o'clock! 

HARLEQUIN 

Eleven o'clock! {With immense satisfaction.) 
I've been up since five. What a way to treat 
you! Well, dear, I shall help you. Nobody can 
call me inefficient! 

COLUMBINE 

How I wish Pierrot had some of your qualities! 

29 



FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES 

HARLEQUIN {with Still more satisfaction) 
He never will have. {Jumps up,) Shall we be- 
gin? 

COLUMBINE 

Begin what? 

HARLEQUIN 

Tidying up. I hate to sit in a room that's dis- 
orderly. 
COLUMBINE {coaxing) 

Oh, let's talk for a while. I don't feel like tidy- 
ing up yet. 

HARLEQUIN 

Don't you move! You stay right there. I'll 
do it. You've worked enough this morning. 
COLUMBINE {catches his arm) 

You are a dear to want to help me. 

HARLEQUIN 

There isn't anything I wouldn't do for you. 
Columbine. {He bends his head down to her 
and kisses her.) 

COLUMBINE {with a little cry of pleasure) 
Oh, Harlequin! 

HARLEQUIN {taking her hand) 

Columbine, dear, I love you. It's breaking 
my heart to see you so unhappy, to see your 
dear hands so hardened and stained by working 
and scrubbing for Pierrot, who doesn't ap- 
preciate you the very least little bit. 

COLUMBINE {weeps) 
It's true. He doesn't. 

HARLEQUIN 

He stays out night after night, drinking and 
gambling, and when he's so tired that he can do 
nothing else, he comes back to you and offers 

30 



MATINATA 



you the dregs of himself. Columbine, you are 
too wonderful to be wasted on such a man. 
COLUMBINE (weepingly) 
I am ! I know I am ! 

HARLEQUIN 

Then leave him ! 
COLUMBINE (amazed) 
Leave him? 

HARLEQUIN 

Yes, come with me. 
COLUMBINE (enthusiastically) 
Oh — an elopement! 

HARLEQUIN 

This wouldn't be an elopement exactly. We 
should have to go through the form of a legal 
separation. 
COLUMBINE (disappointed) 

But an elopement! IVe always wanted an 
elopement ! 

HARLEQUIN 

I know, dear, but you must really leave this to 

me. An elopement is very romantic and all that, 

but a legal separation is really the most sensible 

way of doing it. 
COLUMBINE (pouting) 

Very well, if you say so. Fm not sure Tm 

very keen about a legal separation. It sounds 

so — so — 
HARLEQUIN (interrupting) 

Practical. And that's just what it is. 
COLUMBINE (admiringly) 

You are practical, Harlequin. What do I have 

to do? 

31 



FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES 

HARLEQUIN 

Sit right down and leave everything to me. I 
shall attend to every detail. 

COLUMBINE 

You are a dear. Harlequin. {She sits down on a 
chair by the table?) Kiss me, sweetheart. 

(Harlequin bends over and kisses her.) 

HARLEQUIN {still bending over her) 
This isn't very comfortable. 

COLUMBINE {rising) 

You sit here and let me sit on your lap. {Harle- 
quin sits down J and she sits on his knee.) Tell me, 
Harlequin, how was it you came to fall in love 
with me? 

HARLEQUIN {starting) 

Oh, dear, I've put my sleeve in the omelette. 
Fm covered with egg. Do you mind if I clear off 
the table? 

{Columbine jumps of his knee and Harlequin 
rises,) 

COLUMBINE {anxiously) 

Let me help you. 
HARLEQUIN {wiping his sleeve) 

No, I can manage, dear. 

COLUMBINE 

But, Harlequin! 

HARLEQUIN 

But, Columbine! 

COLUMBINE 

Oh, very well. {She sits down.) 

HARLEQUIN 

ril clear them all off in a second. 

32 



MATINATA 



{He piles all the dishes on one arm^ and in a few 
seconds has carried them all ojff^ like an expert 
waiter.) 

COLUMBINE {admiringly) 
How clever you are, Harlequin! 

HARLEQUIN 

While Vm up, I think V\\ fix the beds. 

COLUMBINE 

But, Harlequin, what about the elopement? 
HARLEQUIN {rather sharply) 
The legal separation? 

COLUMBINE 

Yes, when shall we get started? 

HARLEQUIN 

When will Pierrot return ? 

COLUMBINE 

I don't know. 

HARLEQUIN 

Didn't you ask him, dear? 

COLUMBINE 

No! 

HARLEQUIN 

That was rather thoughtless of you. 

COLUMBINE 

But, Harlequin, I didn't know we were going to 
elope when he left this morning. 

HARLEQUIN 

Of course, you didn't, but on general principles, 
if you're living with a person constantly. Colum- 
bine, you ought to know just about what his 
habits are, and how long he may be expected to 
be away. 

' 33 



' FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES 

COLUMBINE 

But Pierrot has no habits. 

HARLEQUIN 

That's true. I suppose you*d better get packed, 

so we can leave before he returns. Where is 

your suitcase, dear? 
COLUMBINE {pointing) 

Under the bed. 
HARLEQUIN {pulls out the suitcase) 

Lord, what a state it's in! Have you a duster? 

COLUMBINE 

Let me do it. 

HARLEQUIN 

Please, Columbine. Tell me where you keep the 
duster. 

COLUMBINE 

Please let me do it. 

HARLEQUIN 

Now, Columbine, didn't you say you'd leave 
everything to me? 

COLUMBINE 

But I want to do it! 

HARLEQUIN 

Very well, I know what we'll do. You pack the 
suitcase and I'll tidy the room. 

(Columbine takes the suitcase and dusts it with 
her handkerchief,) 

HARLEQUIN 

Using your handkerchief, dear? 

COLUMBINE 

I have no duster. 

HARLEQUIN 

No duster? 

34 



MATINATA 



COLUMBINE 

No! 
HARLEQUIN {expafisively) 

When you are living with me, dear, we shall have 
large piles of dusters! We shall have small, 
striped ones, large tea cloths, dishcloths, towels, 
and washrags, and every kind of brush, broom, 
and cleaning appliance! 

COLUMBINE 

How wonderful! 
HARLEQUIN {begins making Pierrot's bed) 
Does Pierrot sleep in this bed ? 

COLUMBINE 

Yes. 

HARLEQUIN 

I thought SO. Nobody but Pierrot could stand 
such sheets. 
COLUMBINE {alarmed) 

They're clean, aren't they? 

HARLEQUIN 

Yes, but cotton, and such cotton! When you 
live with me. Columbine, you shall sleep on linen. 
What's this? {He takes out a photograph of 
Columbine in a silver frame from under the pillow^ 
COLUMBINE {taking the picture) 
Where did you find it? 

HARLEQUIN 

Under his pillow. 

COLUMBINE 

Silly Pierrot! 

HARLEQUIN 

Silly's too mild a name for a lazy sentimentalist 
like Pierrot. Sleeps with his wife's photograph! 

2>S 



FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES 

————— .— ^^^^^^^^»^.— — ^—i ^^^^^^^^^— ^^^^^^i— ■— ^^^»^^— 

COLUMBINE 

Hadn't we better hurry? 

HARLEQUIN 

We can't go away and leave the place untidy — 
though I suppose Pierrot would never notice it. 

COLUMBINE 

No — I don't think he would. 

(Columbine begins to bundle her underwear and 
clothes into the suitcase. Harlequin continues 
making up the bed.) 

HARLEQUIN {making the bed) 

Do you tuck the quilt under the mattress on 
both sides, or only on the left-hand side? 

COLUMBINE (carelessly) 
Oh, any old way. 

HARLEQUIN (dogmatically) 
The correct way is to tuck it under on the left- 
hand side only. (Columbine attempts to close the 
suitcase. Harlequin sees her,) Don't do that, 
Columbine. You're liable to strain yourself. 
Let me do it. (Harlequin begins to struggle 
with the suitcase but fails to close it,) You have 
too much in it. Do you mind if I open it? 

COLUMBINE 

But, Harlequin, we must hurry. Pierrot may 
come back any moment. 

HARLEQUIN 

We can't go away with all your things trailing 
out of the suitcase, dear ! (He opens it and turns 
to Columbine reproachfully.) Columbine! 

COLUMBINE 

Yes, it is untidy, isn't it? I was so excited I 
just pushed everything in. 

36 



MATINATA 



HARLEQUIN 

No wonder I couldn't close it. Columbine, 
dear, just leave this packing to me, will you? 
Look, here's a magazine, {He gives it to her and 
guides her to a chair,) You sit down there and 
read it for a few minutes, and Til have your 
suitcase packed like lightning. 

COLUMBINE 

But I feel so useless ! 
HARLEQUIN (reproachjully) 
Columbine! 

COLUMBINE 

I do. 

HARLEQUIN 

But you want to go away with me, don't you, 
dear.'' 

COLUMBINE {dubiously) 
I suppose I do. 

HARLEQUIN 

You suppose? Don't you know. Columbine, 
darling? 

COLUMBINE 

Yes, of course I know. 

HARLEQUIN 

Very well. Leave everything to me and there 
won't be any hitch. 

{He begins packing up her clothes^ which he has 
dumped out of the suitcase onto the floor. He is an 
expert packer; everything is folded up into the 
tiniest space. Columbine watches him appre- 
hensively over the top of the magazine. Harlequin 
begins to fold up a very frilly nightgown^ 

37 



FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES 

COLUMBINE 

Please don*t look at that, Harlequin! 

HARLEQUIN 

Why not? 

COLUMBINE 

It embarrasses me. 

HARLEQUIN 

IVe seen loads of them. 

COLUMBINE 

Harlequin ! 

HARLEQUIN 

In shop windows. But isn*t this rather a 
stupid one? 

COLUMBINE 

Pierrot doesn't think so. 

HARLEQUIN 

It is rather stupid, though. Look at all that 
frilly lace on the shoulders! It means that the 
gown lasts half as long. .You are always liable 
to catch cold wearing it. Then again, the 
laundering is always more difficult and conse- 
quently more expensive, and it often scratches 
your skin when they put too much starch in 
it. {His voice full of promise.) Til buy you some 
simple, practical ones, without any frills and 
fripperies. 

COLUMBINE 

But I like that one. 

{Harlequin has another frilly garment in his hand. 
She jumps up and takes it away from him.) 

HARLEQUIN {amazed) 

Columbine, you don*t mean to tell me you 
wear those! 

38 



MATINATA 



COLUMBINE {puzzled) 
Yes, I do; why not? 

HARLEQUIN 

Goodness me, they're mid-Victorian. You take 
me back to the days of my grandmother. 

COLUMBINE 

What's the matter with them? 

HARLEQUIN 

I shall have to buy you an entirely new trous- 
seau! 

COLUMBINE 

I don't know that I want a new trousseau! 

HARLEQUIN 

Indeed you do. You need a new dress badly, 
too. When you live with me, I shall work hard 
and buy you loads of wonderful clothes. I shall 
select them myself. I want everybody to admire 
you and say what a faultlessly dressed woman 
you are! There! Everything's in, and there's 
room for a whole lot more. Are you sure you 
have everything? 
COLUMBINE {putting 077 her coat and hat) 
Quite sure. Come along. 

HARLEQUIN 

Did you remember to put in your rubbers? 
COLUMBINE {puzzled) 

Rubbers — on an elopement? 

HARLEQUIN 

Yes, why not? It might rain. 

COLUMBINE 

Well, I won't put in rubbers ! 

HARLEQUIN 

If it rains, you'll take cold without them. 

39 



FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES 



COLUMBINE 

I will not take rubbers. 

HARLEQUIN 

Columbine, I insist on rubbers. 
COLUMBINE (sarcastically) 
Very well, I have no rubbers. But I have an 
umbrella — perhaps you'd like me to take that! 

HARLEQUIN 

That would be an excellent idea! 
COLUMBINE {getting angry) 

And how about a small medicine chest with 
mustard plasters, hot water bottles, and all the 
necessary equipment for treating small wounds, 
sprains, bruises, burns, and chapped hands? 

HARLEQUIN 

Columbine, I believe you are angry with me. 

COLUMBINE 

Angry with you ? No, Harlequin, Fm not angry 
with you. Tm angry with myself. Imagine 
eloping with a man who insists on packing 
rubbers and an umbrella. Oh, Lord! 

HARLEQUIN 

My dear, Fm simply trying to be practical! 
COLUMBINE (scornfully) 

Practical! Why haven't you brought a lawyer 
with you ? Why haven't we signed the necessary 
legal documents? Why haven't you brought a 
doctor in case we have an accident, and a trained 
nurse, and a hospital, and an ambulance? Why 
haven't you been really practical? 

HARLEQUIN 

Columbine, you're making fun of me! 

COLUMBINE 

No, I'm not! If I elope, it must be with a 

40 



MATINATA 



practical man, not an amateur. I want him 
to bring along railroad trains and seaside 
hotels and ocean liners ! 

HARLEQUIN 

You are making fun of me ! Columbine, I shall 
not go away with you. 

COLUMBINE {points to the sink) 

How could you go away with me when the dishes 
aren't washed ? {A noise is heard outside.) Hist ! 
It's Pierrot! 

HARLEQUIN 

What shall I do? 

COLUMBINE 

Something practical! 

HARLEQUIN 

ril hide in the bathroom. 

{Harlequin goes of into the bathroom. Columbine 
takes off her hat and coat and passes Harlequin's 
hat and walkingstick into the bathroom. 
Enter Pierrot. He carries a small straggling bunch 
of flowers.) 

PIERROT {penitently) 

Columbine, dear, these are for you! 

COLUMBINE 

Pierrot, dear! {They embrace.) 

PIERROT 

Forgive me, darling! 

COLUMBINE 

There's nothing to forgive, dearest. 

PIERROT 

I was rude to you! 

41 



FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES 

COLUMBINE 

It was my fault, Pierrot. I had my leg in your 
way! 

PIERROT 

No, dearest, I was wrong in kicking my foot 
against you ! I know I was. So I went out into 
the fields and picked these flowers for you. Then 
I sat on the grass and looked at them, and do 
you know. Columbine, dear, that the song came 
back to me, the one I was dreaming about when 
you woke me up this morning — "Matinata'* 
I called it — so I wrote it down on a piece of 
paper and took it to the song publishers and 
would you believe it — they paid me ninety dol- 
lars and forty-seven cents for it ! 
COLUMBINE {amazed) 
And forty-seven cents! 

PIERROT 

Three dollars and seven cents a line! Look, 
here's the money ! {He pulls out the roll of bills 
and shows them to her.) Do you know what 
Tm going to do with it? Tm going to buy half 
a dozen of the laciest of lace nighties for you! 
The ones you have are nearly worn out. 

COLUMBINE 

But, darling, they are so impractical! 

PIERROT 

They're beautiful! And then Fm going to bring 
you half a dozen pairs of — 
COLUMBINE {glancing apprehensively at the bath- 
room door) 
Never mind, Pierrot! 

PIERROT 

And with the rest of the money we'll go on a 

42 



MATINATA 



little trip together! You'll have to pack your 
suitcase! 
COLUMBINE {shows her suitcase) 
It /j- packed! 

PIERROT 

How did you come to do that ? 
COLUMBINE {hesitating^ then lying heroically) 
Woman's intuition! The moment you said 
those few lines at the breakfast table, I just 
knew the publisher would buy the song! 

PIERROT 

Have you any room for my things? 
COLUMBINE {opens the suitcase) 

Lots ! 
PIERROT {admiringly) 

How neatly you packed it! Here, drop these in. 

{He throws in some clothes and shuts the suitcase^ 
stamps on it and goes to the door^ right. Columbine 
puts on her hat and picks up the suitcase?) 

PIERROT 

Columbine, you look charming in those old 
clothes. People will think we're eloping! 

{They kiss, Pierrot goes out. The bathroom 
door opens and Harlequin peeps through^ 

COLUMBINE {calls dowstairs^ looking at Harlequin) 
Pierrot, dear, shall I bring rubbers? 

{Columbine goes out. Enter Harlequin. He 
looks out of the window^ sighs, goes over to the 
table, shrugs his shoulders, and begins to wash the 
dishes.) 

CURTAIN 

43 



ANOTHER WAY OUT 

A COMEDY IN ONE ACT 



Another Way Out was first produced in November 
1 91 6, by the Washington Square Players at the 
Comedy Theatre, New York, with the following cast: 

Margaret Marshall Gladys Wynne 

Mrs. Abbey Jean Robb 

PoMEROY Pendleton Jose Ruben 

Baroness de Meauville Helen Westley 

Charles P. K. Fenton Robert Strange 

Produced under the direction of Mr. Philip Moeller 



Copyright, 1916 

By LAWRENCE LANGNER 

All Rights Reserved 



ANOTHER WAY OUT 

SCENE 

The studio in Pendleton* s apartment, A large 
room^ with skylight in center of wally doors center^ 
rights and left, table set for breakfast; a vase with 
red flowers decorates the table. Center rear wall, 
in front of skylight, a modelling stand, upon which 
is placed a rough statuette, covered with cloth. To 
one side of this is a large screen. The furnishings 
are many-hued, the cushions a flare of color, and the 
pictures fantastically futuristic, 

Mrs. Abbey, a benevolent-looking, middle-aged 
woman, in neat clothes and apron, is arranging 
some dishes on the table. Margaret, a very mod- 
ern young woman, is exercising vigorously. She 
is decidedly good-looking. Her eyes are direct, 
her complexion fresh, and her movements free. 
Her brown hair is bobbed, and she wears a pic- 
turesque Grecian robe. 

MRS. ABBEY 

Breakfast is ready, ma'am. 

(Margaret sits at the table and helps herself, Mrs. 
Abbey goes out, left,) 

MARGARET {calling) 

Pommy, dear. Breakfast is on the table. 

PENDLETON {from without) 
ril be there in a moment. 

47 



FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES 

(Margaret glances through the paper; Pendleton 
enters^ door right. He is tall and thin^ and of ces- 
thetic appearance. His long blond hair is brushed 
loosely over his forehead and he is dressed in a 
heliotrope dressing gown. He lights a cigarette^ 

MARGARET 

I thought you were going to stop smoking be- 
fore breakfast. 

PENDLETON 

My dear, I can't possibly stand the taste of 
tooth-paste in my mouth all day. 

{Pendleton sits at the table. Enter Mrs, Abbey y 
door lefty with a tray, Pendleton helps himself y 
then drops his knife and fork with a clang, 
Mrs, Abbey and Margaret are startled^ 

MRS. ABBEY 

Anything the matter, sir? 

PENDLETON 

Dear, dear! My breakfast is quite spoiled 
again. 

MRS. ABBEY {conCCmcd) 

Spoiled, sir? 
PENDLETON {pointing to the red flowers on the break- 
fast table) 

Look at those flowers, Mrs. Abbey. Not only 
are they quite out of harmony with the color 
scheme of this room, but they're positively red, 
and you know I have a perfect horror of red. 

MRS. ABBEY 

But you Hke them that color sometimes, 
sir. What am I to do when you're so tempera- 
mental about *em. 

48 



ANOTHER WAY OUT 



MARGARET 

Temperamental. I should say bad tempered. 

MRS. ABBEY (soothingly) 

Oh, no, ma'am. It isn't bad temper. I under- 
stand Mr. Pendleton. It's just another bad 
night he's had, that's what it is. 

PENDLETON (sarcastically polite^ 

Mrs. Abbey, you appear to have an intimate 
knowledge of how I pass the nights. It's be- 
coming quite embarrassing. 

MRS. ABBEY 

You mustn't mind an old woman like me, sir. 

(The sound of a piano y hopelessly out of tune^ 
in the apartment upstairs^ is heard, the player 
banging out Mendelssohn^ s Wedding March with 
unusual i77sistence.) 

PENDLETON 

There! That confounded piano again! 

MARGARET 

And they always play the Wedding March. 
There must be an old maid living there. 

MRS. ABBEY 

They're doing that for a reason. 

MARGARET 

What reason? 

MRS. ABBEY 

Their cook told me yesterday that' her missus 
thinks if she keeps on a-playing of the Wedding 
March, p'raps it'll give you an' Mr. Pendleton 
the idea of getting married. She don't believe 
in couples livin' together, like you an' Mr. 
Pendleton. 

49 



FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES 

MARGARET 

No? 

MRS. ABBEY 

And I just said you an' Mr. Pendleton had been 
living together so long, it was my opinion you 
might just as well be married an' done with it. 
MARGARET {angrily) 

Your opinion is quite uncalled for, Mrs. Abbey. 

PENDLETON 

Why shouldn't Mrs. Abbey give us her opinion? 
It may be valuable. Look at her experiences 
in matrimony. 

MRS. ABBEY 

In matrimony, and out of it, too. 

MARGARET {sitting) 

But Mrs. Abbey has no right to discuss our 
affairs with other people's maids. 

MRS. ABBEY 

I'll be glad to quit if I don't suit the mistress. 
MARGARET {angrily) 

There! "Mistress" again! How often have 
I asked you not to refer to me as the mistress? 

MRS. ABBEY 

No offense, ma'am. 

PENDLETON 

You'd better see if there's any mail, Mrs. Abbey, 
and take those flowers away with you. 

MRS. ABBEY 

Very well, sir. 

{Mrs. Abbey goes ofy door center,) 

MARGARET 

What an old-fashioned point of view Mrs. 
Abbey has. 

50 



ANOTHER WAY OUT 



{Pendleton takes up the paper and commences to 
read.) 

MARGARET 

Pommy, why do you stoop so ? 

PENDLETON 

Am I stooping? 

MARGARET 

Fm tired of telling you. You ought to take 
more exercise. {Pendleton continues to read.) 
One reason why the Greeks were the greatest 
of artists was because they cultivated the body 
as carefully as the mind. 

PENDLETON 

Oh! Hang the Greeks! 

{Enter Mrs, Abbey ^ door center^ with letters.) 

MRS. ABBEY 

These are your letters, sir. {Coldly,) And these 
are yours, ma'am. {She goes of^ left.) 

MARGARET {who has Opened her letters meanwhile) 
How delightful! Tom Del Valli has asked us 
to a party at his studio next Friday. 

PENDLETON {opening his letters) 
Both of us ? 

MARGARET {giving Mm the letter) 

Yes, and Helen Marsden wants us for Saturday. 

PENDLETON 

Both of us } 
MARGARET {picking Up another letter) 

Yes, and here's one from Bobby Watson for 
Sunday. 

PENDLETON 

Both of us? 

51 



FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES 

MARGARET 

Yes. 

PENDLETON 

Really, Margaret, this is becoming exasperating. 
{Holds up the letters.) Here are four more, I 
suppose for both of us. People keep on in- 
viting us out together time after time as though 
we were the most conventional married couple 
on God's earth. 

MARGARET 

Do you object to going out with me? 

PENDLETON {douhtjully) 

No, it isn't that. But we're having too much 
of a good thing. .And I've come to the conclu- 
sion that it's your fault. 
MARGARET {indignantly) 

Oh, it's my fault? Of course you'd blame me. 
Why? 

PENDLETON 

Because you have such an absurd habit of 
boasting to people of your devotion to me, 
when we're out. 

MARGARET 

You surely don't expect me to quarrel with you 
in public? 

PENDLETON 

It isn't necessary to go to that extent. But 
when everybody believes that we're utterly, 
almost stupidly in love with one another, what 
can you expect? 

MARGARET 

You said once you never wanted me to sup- 
press anything. 

52 



ANOTHER WAY OUT 



PENDLETON 

That was before we began to live together. 

MARGARET 

What could I have done? 

PENDLETON 

Anything, just so we could have a little more 
freedom, instead of being tied to one another 
the way we are. Never a moment when we're 
not together, never a day when Vm not inter- 
viewed by special article writers from almost 
every paper and magazine in the country 
as the only successful exponent of the theory 
that love can be so perfect that the marriage 
contract degrades it. I put it up to you, Margaret 
— if this is a free union, it is simply intolerable! 

MARGARET 

But aren't we living together so as to have 
more freedom? Think of what it might be 
if we were married. Didn't you once write, 
"When marriage comes in at the door, freedom 
flies out at the window"? 

PENDLETON 

Are we any better off, with everybody treating 
us as though we were living together to prove 
a principle ? 

MARGARET 

Well, aren't we, incidentally? You said so your- 
self. We can be a beautiful example to other 
people, and show them how to lead the pure, 
natural lives of the later Greeks. 

PENDLETON 

Damn the later Greeks! Why do you always 
throw those confounded later Greeks in my 

53 



FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES 

face? WeVe got to look at it from our stand- 
point. This situation must come to an end. 

MARGARET 

What can we do? 

PENDLETON 

It rests with you. 

MARGARET 

With me? 

PENDLETON 

You can compromise yourself with somebody 
publicly. That'll put an end to everything. 

MARGARET 

How will that end it? 

PENDLETON 

It'll break down the morally sanctified atmos- 
phere in which we're living. Then, perhaps, 
people will regard us as immoral — and treat us 
like decent human beings again. 

MARGARET 

But I don't want to compromise myself. 

PENDLETON 

If you believe in your own ideals, you must. 

MARGARET 

But why should I have to do it? 

PENDLETON 

It will be so easy for you. 

MARGARET 

Why can't we both be compromised? That 
would be better still. 

PENDLETON 

I should find it a bore. You, unless my memory 
fails me, would enjoy it. 

54 



ANOTHER WAY OUT 



MARGARET 

You needn't be cynical. Even if you don't en- 
joy it^ you can work it into a novel. 

PENDLETON 

It's less exertion to imagine an affair of that 
sort, and the result would probably be more 
saleable. Besides I have no interest whatsoever 
in women — at least, in the women we know. 

MARGARET 

For that matter, I don't know any eligible men. 

PENDLETON 

What about Bob Lockwood? 

MARGARET 

But he's your best friend! 

PENDLETON 

Exactly. No man ever really trusts his best 
friend. He'll probably compromise you without 
compunction. 

MARGARET 

I'm afraid he'd be too dangerous; he tells you 
all his secrets. Whom would you choose? 

PENDLETON 

It's a matter of complete indifference to me. 

MARGARET 

I've heard a lot of queer stories about Jean 
Roberts. How would she do? 
PENDLETON {firmly) 
Margaret, I don't mind being party to a flirta- 
tion — but I draw the line at being the victim 
of a seduction. 

MARGARET 

Why not leave it to chance? Let it be the 
next interesting woman you meet. 

55 



FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES 

PENDLETON 

That might be amusing. But there must be 
an age limit. And how about you? 
MARGARET {takes the cloth ojf the statuette and dis- 
closes a figure of Apollo in rough modelling clay) 
Me! Why not the new model who is coming 
today to pose for my Apollo? 

PENDLETON 

Well, if he's anything like that, you ought to 
be able to create a sensation. Then, perhaps, 
we shall have some real freedom. 

MARGARET 

Pommy, do you still love me as much as you did ? 

PENDLETON 

How you sentimentalize! Do you think Td 
be willing to enter into a flirtation with a strange 
woman, if I didn't want to keep on living with 
you? 

MARGARET 

And we won't have to break up our little home, 
will we? 

PENDLETON 

No, anything to save the home. {Catches him- 
self.) My God! If any of my readers should 
hear me sa^y that! To think that I, Pomeroy 
Pendleton, should be trying to save my own 
home. And yet, how characteristically para- 
doxical. 
MARGARET {interrupting) 

You are going to philosophize! Give me a kiss. 

{She goes to him^ sits on his lapy and places her 
arm on his shoulder; he takes out a cigarette^ she 
lights it for him,) 

S6 



ANOTHER WAY OUT 



PENDLETON {brought buck to reality) 
I have some work to do. I must go. 

MARGARET 

A kiss! 
PENDLETON (kisses her carelessly) 
There, let me go. 

MARGARET 

I want a real kiss. 

PENDLETON 

Don't be silly, dear. I can't play this morning. 
IVe simply got to finish my last chapter. 

{A bell rings. Mrs, Abbey enters and goes to 
the center door,) 

MRS. ABBEY 

There's a lady to see Mr. Pendleton. 

MARGARET 

Tell her to come in ! 

PENDLETON 

But, Margaret! ; 

MARGARET 

Remember! {Significantly,) The first woman 
you meet! 

{Margaret goes outy right, Mrs, Abbey enters 
center with Baroness de Meauville. Mrs, Abbey 
goes outy left,) 

BARONESS DE MEAUVILLE {speaking with a pro- 
nounced English accent) 

Good morning, Mr. Pendleton, Fm the Baron- 
ess de Meauville! 

PENDLETON {recalling her name) 

Baroness de Meauville? Ah, the costumer? 

57 



FIVE ONE-ACT COM ED 

BARONESS 

Not a COS turner, Mr. Pendleton. It am an artist, 
an artist in modern attire. A woman^is to me what 
a canvas is to a painter. 

PENDLETON 

Excuse me for receiving you in (my dressing 
gown. I was at work. i^""^ 

BARONESS 

I like to see men in dressing gowns — yours is 

very charming. 
PENDLETON {^flattered and pleased) 

Do you like it? I designed it myself. 
BARONESS {looking seductively into his eyes) 

How few really creative artists there are in 

America I 
PENDLETON (modestly) 

You flatter me. 

BARONESS 

Not at all. You must know that Fm a great 
admirer of yours, Mr. Pendleton. IVe read 
every one of your books. I feel I know you as 
an old friend. 

PENDLETON 

That's very nice of you! 

(The baroness reclines on the couch; takes a jewelled 
cigarette case from her reticule^ and offers Pendleton 
a cigarette^ 

BARONESS 

Will you smoke? 

PENDLETON 

Thanks. 

{Pendeton lights her cigarette^ then his own. He 

58 



ANOTHER WAY OUT 



draws his chair up to the couch. An atmosphere 
of mutual interest is established^ 

BARONESS 

Mr. Pendleton, I have a mission in life. It 
is to make the American woman the best- 
dressed woman in the world. I came here to- 
day because I want you to help me. 

PENDLETON 

But I have no ambitions in that direction. 

BARONESS 

Why should you have ambitions? Only the 
bourgeoisie has ambitions. We artists have 
inspirations. I want to breathe into you the 
spirit of my great undertaking. Already I have 
opened my place in the smartest part of the 
Avenue. Already I have drawn my assistants 
from all parts of the world. Nothing is lacking 
to complete my plans — but you. 

PENDLETON 

Me? Why me? 
BARONESS {endearingly) 

Are you not considered one of the foremost men 

of letters in America? 
PENDLETON {modcstly) 

Didn't you say you had read all my books? 

BARONESS 

Are you not the only writer who has success- 
fully portrayed the emotional side of American 
life? 
PENDLETON {decidedly) 
Yes. 

59 



FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES 



BARONESS 

Exactly. That is why I have chosen you to 
write my advertisements. 
PENDLETON {aghast) 
But, Baroness! 

BARONESS 

You're not going to say that. It's so ordinary. 

PENDLETON 

But — but — you want me to write advertise- 
ments! 

BARONESS 

Please don't disappoint me. Why, you might 
even evolve a new form of literature. 

PENDLETON 

Yes, I suppose that's so. But one has a sense 
of pride. 

BARONESS 

Art comes before Pride. Consider my feelings, 
an aristocrat, coming here to America and en- 
gaging in commerce, and advertising, and other 
dreadful things, and all for the sake of Art! 

PENDLETON 

But you make money out of it! 

BARONESS 

Only incidentally. Just as you, in writing my 
advertisements, would make, say ten thousand 
or so, as a sort of accident. But don't let us 
talk of money. It's perfectly revolting, isn't 
it? Art is Life, and I believe in Life for Art's 
sake. That's why I am a success. 

PENDLETON 

Indeed? How interesting. Please go on. 

BARONESS 

When a woman comes to me for a gown, I don't 

60 



ANOTHER WAY OUT 



measure her body. Why should I? I measure 
her mind. I find her color harmony. In a 
moment I can tell whether she ought to wear 
scarlet, mauve, taupe, magenta, or any other 
color, so as to fall into her proper rhythm. 
Everyone has a rhythm, you know. {Pendleton 
sits on the sofa.) But I don't have to explain all 
this to you, Mr. Pendleton. You understand it 
intuitively. This heliotrope you are wearing 
shows me at once that you are in rhythm. 
PENDLETON {thinking of Margaret) 

Vm not so sure that I am. What you say 
interests me. May I ask you a question? 

BARONESS 

Yes, but I may not answer it. 

PENDLETON 

Why do you wear heliotrope, and the same shade 
as mine? 
BARONESS {with mock mystery) 
You mustn't ask me that. 

PENDLETON 

Fm all curiosity. 

BARONESS 

Curiosity is dangerous. 

PENDLETON 

Supposing I try to find out. 

BARONESS 

That may be even more dangerous. 
PENDLETON {taking her hand) 
Tm fond of that kind of danger. 

BARONESS 

Take care! Fm very fragile. 

6i 



FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES 



PENDLETON 

Isn't heliotrope in rhythm with the faint re- 
flection of passion? 

BARONESS 

How brutal of you to have said it. 
PENDLETON {coming closer to her) 

I, too, am in rhythm with heliotrope. 
BARONESS {with joy) 

How glad I am. Thank God, you've no desire 

to kiss my Hps. 

PENDLETON 

Only your finger-tips. {They exchange kisses 
and finger-tips.) Your fingers are like soft, pale, 
waxen tapers ! 

BARONESS 

Your kisses are the breathings that light them 
into quivering flame! 

PENDLETON 

Exquisite — exquisite ! 
BARONESS {withdrawing her hands) 
That was a moment! 

PENDLETON 

We must have many such. 

BARONESS 

Many? That's too near too much. 
PENDLETON {fervently) 
We shall, dear lady. 

BARONESS 

How I adore your writings! They have made 
me realize the beauty of an ideal union, the 
love of one man for one woman — at a time. 
Let us have such a union, you and me. 
PENDLETON {taken aback) 

But I live in such a union already. 

62 



ANOTHER WAY OUT 



BARONESS {horror-Stricken) 
What ! You live in such a union ! {She rises.) U 
Don't you see what we've done? You are liv- 
ing in one of those wonderful unions you de- 
scribe in your books — and I've let you kiss me. 
I've committed a sacrilege. 

PENDLETON 

You're mistaken. It isn't a sacrilege. It's 
an opportunity. 
BARONESS {dramatically) 
How can you say that — you, whose words have 
inspired my deepest intimacies. No, I must go. 
{She makes for the door^ center?) I — must — go. 

PENDLETON 

You don't understand. I exaggerated every- 
thing so in my confounded books. 

BARONESS 

Please ask her to forgive me. Please tell her 
I thought you were married, otherwise, never, 
never, would I have permitted you to kiss me. 

PENDLETON 

What made you think I was married? 

BARONESS 

One often believes what one hopes. 

PENDLETON 

You take it too seriously. Let me explain. 

BARONESS 

What is there to explain? Our experience has 
been complete. Why spoil it by anti-climax? 

PENDLETON 

Am I never to see you again? 

BARONESS 

Who knows? If your present union should end, 
and some day your soul needs — some one? 

63 



FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES 

{She goes outy dooVy center^ her manner full of 
promise,) 

PENDLETON (withfeeltng) 
Goodbye, long, pale fingers. 

(Enter Margaret^ door^ right,) 

MARGARET 

Did you get a good start with the scandal? 

PENDLETON 

Not exactly. I may as well admit it was a fail- 
ure, through no fault of mine, of course. And 
now, I simply must finish that last chapter. 

{He goes of,) 

{Margaret rings. Mrs, Abbey enters,) 

MARGARET 

You may clear, Mrs. Abbey. 

MRS. ABBEY 

Very well, ma'am. {She attends to clearing the 
table,) 

MARGARET 

Mrs. Abbey, have you worked for many people 
living together, like Mr. Pendleton and myself? 

MRS. ABBEY 

Lor*, ma*am, yes. IVe worked in nearly every 
house on the south side of Washington Square. 

MARGARET 

Mr. Pendleton says Fm as domestic as any wife 
could be. Were the others like me ? 

MRS. ABBEY 

Most of them, ma'am; but some was regular 
hussies, not only a-livin' with their fellers — 

64 



ANOTHER WAY OUT 



but havin' a good time, too. That's what I 
call real immoral. 

{A bell rings, Mrs. Abbey opens door, center, and 
passes out. Conversation with Fenton without 
is heard, Mrs. Abbey comes back.) 

MRS. ABBEY 

A young man wants to see you, ma*am. 

MARGARET 

That's the new model. Til get my working 
apron. 

{Margaret goes out, door, right. Mrs. Abbey calls 
through door, center.) 

MRS. ABBEY 

You c'n come in. 

{Enter door, center, Charles P. K. Fenton, dic- 
tionary salesman. He is a strikingly handsome 
young man, offensively smartly dressed in a 
black-and-white check suit, gaudy tie, and white 
socks. His hair is brushed back from his fore- 
head like a glossy sheath. He carries a small 
black bag. His manner is distinctly ''male.'') 

MRS. ABBEY {points to the screen) 
You can undress behind there. 

FENTON 

Undress? Say, what's this? A Turkish bath? 

MRS. ABBEY 

Did you expect to have a private room all to 
yourself? 
FENTON {looking around) 
What am I to undress for? 

MRS. ABBEY 

The missus will be here in a minute. 
« 65 



FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES 

FENTON 

Good-night ! Fm goin' ! {He makes for the door,) 

MRS. ABBEY 

What's the matter? Ain't you the missus' new 
model ? 

FENTON 

A model! Ha, ha! YouVe sure got the wrong 
number this time. Tm in the dictionary Hne, 
ma'am. 

MRS. ABBEY 

Well, of all the impudence! You a book agent, 
and a-walkin' in here. 

FENTON 

Well, you asked me in, didn't you? Can't I 
see the missus, just for a minute? 

MRS. ABBEY {good-naturedly) 

Very well. {Confidentially) I advise you to re- 
move that Spearmint from your mouth, if you 
want to sell any dictionaries in this house. 

FENTON {placing his hand to his mouth) 
Where shall I put it? 

MRS. ABBEY 

You'd better swallow it! 

{Fenton tries to do so, chokes, turns red, and 
places his hand to his mouth, Margaret enters 
door, right.) 

MARGARET {tO FcntOn) 

I'm so glad to see you. 

{Fenton is most embarrassed. Mrs. Abbey, in 
surprise, attempts to explain the situation,) 

MRS. ABBEY 

But, ma'am — 

66 



ANOTHER WAY OUT 



MARGARET 

You may go, Mrs. Abbey. 

MRS. ABBEY 

But, but, ma'am — 
MARGARET {severely) 

You may go, Mrs. Abbey. {Mrs. Abbey leaves 
in a hujf.) Fm so glad they sent you up to see 
me. Won't you sit down? 

{Fenton finds it a difficult matter to handle the 
situation. He adopts his usual formula for an 
^^openingy^ but his speech is mechanical and 
without conviction. Margaret adds to his em- 
barrassment by stepping around him and ex- 
amining him with professional interest^ 

FENTON 

Madam, I represent the Globe Advertising 
Publishing Sales Company, the largest pub- 
lishers of dictionaries in the world. 
MARGARET (continuing to appraise him) 
Then you're not the new model? 

FENTON 

No, ma'am. 

MARGARET 

What a pity! Never mind, go on. 

FENTON 

As I was saying, ma'am, I represent the Ad- 
vertising Globe Publishing — I mean the Globe 
Advertising Publishing Sales Company, the 
largest publishers of dictionaries in the world. 
For some time past we have felt that there was 
a demand for a new Encyclopaedic Dictionary, 
madam, one that would not only fill up a good 
deal of space on the bookshelf, making an at- 

67 



FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES 

tractive addition to the home, but also con- 
taining the most complete collection of words 
in the English language. 

{Margaret has taken a pencil and is measuring 
Fenton while he speaks. Fenton^s discomfort is 
obvious. He attempts to rearrange his tie and 
coaty thinking she is examining them.) 

MARGARET 

Please go on talking, it's so interesting, 

FENTON 

Statistics show that the woman of average edu- 
cation in America, madam, has command of 
but fifteen hundred words. This new diction- 
ary, madam {producing a book from his bag), will 
give you command of over eight hundred and 
fifty thousand. 

MARGARET {archly) 

So you are a dealer in words — how perfectly 
romantic. 

FENTON {warming) 
Most of these w«ords, madam, are not used more 
than a dozen times a year. They are our 
Heritage from the Past, ma'am, just as our 
flag is our heritage. And all these words, to 
say nothing of the fact that the dictionary fills 
five inches on a bookshelf, making an attrac- 
tive addition to your library, being handsomely 
bound in half-cloth, all these are yours, ma'am, 
for the price of one dollar. 

{He places a dictionary in her hand. She ex- 
amines it.) 

68 



ANOTHER WAY OUT 



FENTON 

If you have a son, madam, the possession of this 
dictionary will give him an opportunity of 
acquiring that knowledge of our language 
which made Abraham Lincoln the Father of 
Our Country. Madam, opportunity knocks 
at the door only once, and this is your oppor- 
tunity, at one dollar. 

MARGARET {meaningly) 

Yes, this is my opportunity! I'll buy the dic- 
tionary, and now {sweetly) won't you tell me 
your name? 

FENTON {pocketing the dollar) 

My name is Charles P. K. Fenton. 

MARGARET 

Mr. Fenton, would you mind doing me a favor? 
FENTON {looking dubiously toward the screen) 
Why, I guess not, madam. 

MARGARET 

I want you to take off your coat. 

FENTON {puzzled) 

You're not trying to kid me, ma'am? 

MARGARET 

I just want to see your development. Do you 
mind? 
FENTON {removes his coat) 
Why, no, ma'am, if that's all you want. 

MARGARET 

Now, bring your arm up, tighten the muscles. 
{Fenton does as she bids; Margaret thumps his 
arm approvingly.) Splendid! You must take 
lots of exercise, Mr. Fenton. 

69 



FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES 

FENTON 

Not me, ma'am. I never had no time for ex- 
ercise. I got that workin' in a freight yard. 

MARGARET 

I suppose you think me rather peculiar, Mr. 
Fenton. 

FENTON 

You've said it, ma'am. 

MARGARET 

You see, I'm a sculptress. {She points to the 
statuette.) This is my work. 

FENTON 

You made that? Gee! That's great. {He ex- 
amines the statuette.) Just like them statues at 
the Metropolitan. 

MARGARET 

That center figure is Apollo, Mr. Fenton. 
FENTON {vaguely) 
Oh— Apollo! 

MARGARET 

I was to engage a professional model for it, 
but I could never hope to get a professional 
as ^no, a type as you. Will you pose for it? 
FENTON {aghast) 

Me? That feller there without any clothes? 
{Dubiously) Well, I don't know. It's kind 
of chilly here. 

MARGARET 

If I draped you, it would spoil some of your 
lines. {Seeing his hesitation.) But I will if 
you like. 
FENTON {relieved) 
Ah, now you're talking. 

70 



ANOTHER WAY OUT 



MARGARET 

So you'll really come? 

FENTON 

How about this evening? 

MARGARET 

Splendid! Sit down. (Fenton does so.) Mr. 
Fenton, youVe quite aroused my curiosity. I 
know so few business men. Is your work in- 
teresting? 

FENTON 

Well, I can't say it was, until I started selling 
around this neighborhood. 

MARGARET 

Is it difficult? 

FENTON 

Not if you've got personality, ma'am. That's 
the thing, personality. If a feller hasn't got 
personality, he can't sell goods, that's sure. 

MARGARET 

What do you mean by personality, Mr. Fenton? 

FENTON 

Well, it's what sells the goods. I don't know 
how else to explain it, exactly. I'll look it up 
in the dictionary. {He takes a dictionary and 
turns the pages.) Here it is, ma'am. Per — 
per — why, it isn't in here. I guess they don't 
put in words that everybody knows. We all 
know what personality means. It's what sells 
the goods. 

MARGARET 

I adore a strong, virile, masculine personality, 

FENTON 

I don't quite get you, madam. 

71 



FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES 

MARGARET 

The men I know have so much of the feminine 
in them. 

FENTON 

Oh,— "sissies"! 
MARGARET {flirtingly) 

They lack the magnetic forcefulness which I 
like so much in you. 

FENTON 

I believe you are kidding me. Does that mean 
you like me? 

MARGARET 

That's rather an embarrassing question. 

FENTON 

You must or you wouldn't let me speak to you 

in this way. 
MARGARET {arckly) 

Never mind whether I like you. Tell me whether 

you like me. 
FENTON {feeling more at home) 

Gee! I didn't get on to you at first. Sure I like 

you. 

MARGARET 

Then we're going to be good friends. . 

FENTON 

You just bet we are. Say, got a date for to- 
morrow evening? 

MARGARET 

No. 

FENTON 

How about the movies? There's a fine feature 
film at the Strand. Theda Bara in "The Lone- 
some Vampire," fiv^ reels. They say it's got 
"Gloria's Romance" beat a mile. 

72 



ANOTHER WAY OUT 



MARGARET 

I don't know that Td care to go there. 

FENTON 

How about a run down to Coney? 
MARGARET {ecstatically) 

Coney! Fve always wanted to do wild pagan 
things ! yL^ 

FENTON 

Say, you'll tell me your name, won't you? 

MARGARET 

Margaret Marshall. 

FENTON 

Do you mind if I call you Margie ? 

MARGARET 

If you do, I must call you — 

FENTON 

Charley. Gee, I like the name of Margie. 
Some class to that ! 

MARGARET 

Fm glad you like it. 
FENTON {moving closer) 
And some class to you! 

MARGARET {coyly) 

So you really like me ? 

FENTON 

You bet. Say, before I go, youVe got to give 
me a kiss, Margie. 

MARGARET 

Well, I don't know. Aren't you rather "rush- 
ing" me? 

FENTON 

Say, you are a kidder. {He draws her up from 
her chair, and kisses her warmly on the lips,) 

13 



FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES 



MARGARET (ecstatically) 

You have the true Greek spirit! {They kiss 
again.) If only Pommy would kiss me that 
way! 

FENTON 

Pommy? Who's Pommy? 

MARGARET 

Pommy is the man I live with. 

FENTON 

Your husband? 

MARGARET 

No, we just Hve together. You see, we don't 
believe in marriage. 
FENTON {pushing her away in horror) 

I thought there was something queer about all 
this. Does he live here? 

MARGARET 

Yes. {Points to door, right.) He's in there 

now. 
FENTON {excitedly) 

Good-night! I'm goin'. {He looks for his hat.) 
MARGARET {speaking with real anguish) 

You're surely not going just on that account. 
FENTON {taking hat and bag) 

Isn't that enough? 
MARGARET {emotionally) 

Please don't go. Listen. I can't suppress 

my feeUng for you. I never do with anybody. 

I liked you the moment I saw you. I want you 

as a friend, a good friend. You can't go now, 

just when everything's about to begin. 
FENTON {severely) 

Fair's fair, Miss. If hes keeping you, you can't 

74 



ANOTHER WAY OUT 



be taking up with me at the same time. That 
puts the finish on it. 

MARGARET 

But he doesn't keep me. I keep myself. 

FENTON 

Wait a minute. You support yourself and live 
with him of your own free will! Then youVe 
got no excuse for being immoral. 'Tisn't like 
you had to make your living at it. {At the door,) 
Goodbye. 

MARGARET 

But I can explain everything. 

FENTON 

It's no use. Miss. Even though I am a sales- 
man, Fve got a sense of honor. I sized you up 
as a married woman when I came in just now, 
or I never would have made love to you at 
all. 

MARGARET 

Oh, wait ! Supposing I should want to buy some 
more dictionaries? 

FENTON {returning) 

YouVe got my card. Miss. The phone number 
is on it. Bryant 4253. {Sees Margaret hang 
her head.) Don't feel hurt. Miss. You'll get 
over these queer ideas some day, and when you 
do, well, you've got my nu;nber. So long. Kid. 
{Fenton goes outy door^ center^ 

MARGARET {taking Ms Card from the table and plac- 
ing it to her lips soulfully) 
My Apollo — Bryant 4253! 

{Enter Pendleton^ door, right,) 

75 



FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES 

PENDLETON 

Did you get a good start with your scandal? 
{Margaret hangs her head.) It's no use. I'm 
convinced we're in a hopeless muddle. 

MARGARET 

I heartily agree with you. 

PENDLETON 

You've changed your mind very suddenly. 

MARGARET 

I have my reasons. 

PENDLETON 

The fact is, Margaret, that so long as we live 
together we're public figures, with everybody 
else as our jury. 

MARGARET 

But lots of people read your books and respect 
us. 

PENDLETON 

The people that respect us are worse than the 
people that don't. 

MARGARET 

If they wouldn't always be bothering about our 
morals ! 

PENDLETON 

If we continue to live together, we shall simply 
be giving up our freedom to prove we are free. 
MARGARET {faltering) 

I suppose we ought to separate. 

PENDLETON 

I believe we should. 

MARGARET 

We'll have to give up the studio. 
PENDLETON {regretfully) 
Yes. 

76 



ANOTHER WAY OUT 



MARGARET 

It's taken a long time to make the place home- 
like. 

PENDLETON 

We've been very comfortable here. 

MARGARET 

I shall miss you at meals. 

PENDLETON 

I shall have to start eating at clubs and res- 
taurants again. No more good home cook- 
ing. 

MARGARET 

We're kind of used to one another, aren't we? 

PENDLETON 

It isn't an easy matter to break, after five years. 

MARGARET 

And there are mighty few studios with as good 
a light as this. I don't want to separate, if 
you don't. 

PENDLETON 

But, Margaret — {Piano starts playing the Wed- 
ding March?) There, that confounded piano 
again. {Seized with an idea.) Margaret, there's 
another way out! 
MARGARET {witk the Same idea) 
You mean, we ought to marry! 

PENDLETON 

Yes, marry, and do it at once. That'll end 
everything. 

MARGARET 

Let's do it right away and get it over with. 
I simply must finish my Apollo. 

PENDLETON 

I'm going to buy you a new gown to get married 

77 



FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES 

in, a wedding present, from Baroness de Meau- 
ville's. 

MARGARET 

I don't know that I want a de Meauville gown. 

PENDLETON 

Please let me. I want to give you something 
to symbolize our new life together. 

MARGARET 

Very well. And in return, TU buy you a dic- 
tionary, so that I won't have to keep on cor- 
recting your spelling. 

{Pendleton goes outy door^ right. Margaret goes 
to the phoney and consults Fenton's card.) 

MARGARET 

Bryant 4253? Can I speak to Mr. Fen ton? 
{Enter Mrs, Abbey.) Mrs. Abbey, what do 
you think? We're going to get married! 

MRS. ABBEY 

Well, bless my soul! That's right. You can 
take it from me, ma'am, you'll find that re- 
spectability pays. 

MARGARET {at phonc) 

Bryant 4253? {Sweetly.) Is that Mr. Fen ton? 
{Pause.) Hello, Charley! 

CURTAIN 



78 



THE FAMILY EXIT 

A COMEDY IN ONE ACT 



The Family Exit was first produced in September, 1917, 
at the Comedy Theatre, New York, with the following cast: 



Peter Rutherford-Vandusen 

Rutherford Rutherford-Vandusen 

Martha Rutherford-Vandusen 

Cornelius 

Eugenia 

Mike O'Rourke 

Elise 



David Higgins 

Edwin Forsberg 

Alberta Gallatin 

James Dyrenforth 

Frances Ross 

Frank E. Jamison 

Alethea Luce 



Produced under the direction of Mr. Philip Moeller 



Copyright, 1917 

By LAWRENCE LANGNER 

All Rights Reserved 



THE FAMILY EXIT 

SCENE 

A room in the Immigration Office at Ellis Island. 
A bare^ official-looking room^ with doors right 
and left. The furnishings consist of a long table ^ 
a desky and some chairs. On the table is a tele- 
phone, and on the desk, a large, ledger-like book, 

Mike O'Rourke is a middle-aged Irish-American, 
He wears the uniform of an immigration officer, 

Rutherford Rutherford-Vandusen is a pompous 
elderly gentleman, exceedingly well-dressed, and 
carrying himself always with the air of the Ameri- 
can aristocrat. He is regarded as the head of the 
well-known Rutherford-Vandusen family, and 
never forgets this fact for a minute. 

Martha, his wife, is of equal importance. She 
has reached a ripe middle age. She carries a 
lorgnette which she uses to advantage for the pur- 
pose of discomforting her social inferiors. 

Cornelius is the product of three universities, 
from each of which he has been expelled in turn. 
As a result, he has been able to acquire the vices 
of all three. He has a winning, boyish manner, 
which makes him instantly popular. He is about 
twenty-five years old. 

Eugenia is a young debutante, pretty but un- 
developed. 

6 8i 



FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES 

Martha^ Eugenia^ Cornelius^ and Rutherford 
are seated at the table, O'Rourke is sitting on a 
high stool at the desk, 

RUTHERFORD {to O'Rourke) 

Is this the best room you have? 

o'rourke 

Sure, sir. It's the best on Ellis Island! We 
call it the drawing-room, sir. 

MARTHA {sliding her finger over the top of the table, 
and examining the result through her lorgnette) 
This place hasn't been dusted for months. 

o'rourke 

It's them aliens, ma'am. You can't do nothin' 
wid aliens. Put a bunch of them in a clean 
room like this, and in a minute or two you will 
find it so full of dust, you'd think it never 
was cleaned in years. 

CORNELIUS 

That's queer. Where do they get the dust? 

o'rourke 

Like as not they bring it over wid them, sir. 

RUTHERFORD 

The conditions I find here are absolutely de- 
plorable. I shall write a letter to the New York 
Times on the subject immediately on returning 
home. 

CORNELIUS 

Say, Dad, we didn't come to this hole to make 
a sanitary investigation, did we? 

o'rourke {going to the desk) 

I'll see if I can find the alien you're lookin' for. 

82 : 



THE FAMILY EXIT 



RUTHERFORD {indignantly) 

Is it necessary for me to tell you again that the 
gentleman I wish to see is not an alien. He is 
my brother ! 

o'rourke 

I beg pardon, sir. I know just how you feel. 
My own brother, Patrick, was an alien once upon 
a time himself, and what an alien ! One of the 
worst that ever came on the Island! Why, sir, 
he hadn't set foot on American soil more than 
half an hour before he started a fight and nearly 
killed a couple of Dagoes! 

CORNELIUS {much interested) 
He must have been a corker! 

RUTHERFORD 

I should hardly think a man of that type would 
make a very desirable citizen. 
o'rourke {to Rutherford) 

Beggin' your pardon, sir, that's where you're 
wrong. After he'd finished with the Wops, he 
yells, "Me for the land of liberty," and wid 
that he whales into a couple of Greasers, an' two 
or three Pollacks, till they called out the Fire 
Department, an' him cursin' and swearin' so 
blasphemous (beggin' your pardon, ma'am) 
that the Holy Father himself, who lives here 
on the Island, began yellin' paternosters to beat 
the divil ! 

RUTHERFORD 

But— 

o'rourke 

Ah, Pat was a great one, sir. {Beploringly,) 
Aliens ain't like that nowadays. Them low 
Hungarians an' Greeks an' whatnot, ain't got 

83 



FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES 

no Irish spirit in 'em. Not one good fight have 
we had on this Island for months. 

MARTHA 

I suppose your brother was deported im- 
mediately.^ 
o'rourke {astonished) 

Deported, ma'ajn. I should say not. Michael 
O'Callahan, the Commissioner of Immigration, 
comes up to my brother, an' "Patrick 
O'Rourke,'* says he, "wid your vicious fighting 
abilities, we'll make a first-rate New York 
pleeceman of you — but youVe got to quit your 
cursin' and swearin'." "Bedad," says Pat, "it's 
the pleeceman I'll be, but" (beggin' yer pardon, 
ma'am) — says he to O'Callahan, "I'll be damned 
if I quit me cursin' and swearin'." 

MARTHA 

What a dreadful person ! 

o'rourke {explanatory) 

O'Callahan seen his heart was in the right place, 
ma'am. Says he to me brother, "Then if you 
won't quit cursin' and swearin', O'Rourke," says 
he, "will you promise you'll act like a gentle- 
man, an' only curse an' swear when you're 
at home?" "Sure," says Pat, an' wid that they 
let him in. 

RUTHERFORD 

Indeed! 
o'rourke 
An' today, sir, my brother owns three clubs 
on the East Side, an' is runnin' for Alderman 
next election. Maybe you've heard of him sir? 
Patrick O'Rourke's his name. 

84 



THE FAMILY EXIT 



RUTHERFORD 

I can't say I have, Mr. O'Rourke. I am not 

well acquainted in East Side club circles. {He 
looks at his watch.) I'd be infinitely obliged if 
you could arrange for me to see my brother as 
soon as possible. 
o'rourke 

Sure, sir, I didn't know you was in a hurry. As 
a general rule, most people that comes here to 
meet their relatives is in no hurry at all ! 

CORNELIUS 

My uncle's been away for twenty years. I've 
never seen him. 

o'rourke 

Sure, that accounts for it, sir. I know some- 
thin' about family life myself. I've had troubles 
of my own ! {Going to the desk.) What did you 
say his name was? 

RUTHERFORD {impatient) 
Peter Vandusen. 

o'rourke 

Vandusen. There you are, sir. Peter Vandusen, 
Case No. 374. {Looking up.) I'm not sure you 
can see him, sir. When they've got a number 
like this here, it means they've got somethin' 
agin' him. 

RUTHERFORD 

Something against him! Whatever do you 
mean? 

{Martha and Eugenia rise.) 

o'rourke 

How did you know your brother was here? 

85 



FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES 

RUTHERFORD 

Mr. Tillotson, our lawyer, told us so this morn- 
ing, and we came here immediately to arrange 
matters with the authorities. 
o'rourke 

Did yer lawyer tell you why your brother was 
detained here ? 

RUTHERFORD 

Not a word. 

{CRourke takes a paper from the desk^ and 
Rutherford crosses to him.) 

o'rourke 

Well, it can only be for one of a few things that 
the United States Government is detainin' him. 
{He consults the lists,) There^s our regulations. 
Did you know whether yer brother has small- 
pox or trachoma, for instance? 

EUGENIA 

Uncle can't have anything like that the matter 

with him, can he. Mother? 
CORNELIUS {facetiously) 

I should expect Uncle Peter to have better 

taste than to bring anything like that into the 

country! 
o'rourke 

How about the bubonic plague, or cholera, or 

the like obnoxious diseases ? 
RUTHERFORD {nettled) 

My brother, sir, comes of a thoroughly re- 
spectable old American family! 
o'rourke 

Ah! Then maybe they won't let him in for 

moral reasons. 

86 



THE FAMILY EXIT 



MARTHA 

What! 

RUTHERFORD 

So far as we know, my brother is a confirmed 
bachelor. 
o'rourke 
He may be a bachelor, sir, but is he a polyga- 
mist? 

RUTHERFORD 

A polygamist ? What do you want to know that 
for? 
o'rourke {points to the paper) 

It's one of the questions we ask. If he's a 
polygamist, the United States won't let him 
land. WeVe enough of that sort here aL 
ready ! 

RUTHERFORD 

These questions are absolutely absurd! 

o'rourke {consulting the paper) 
Is yer brother an anarchist, sir? 

EUGENIA {enthusiastically) 
Wouldn't that be exciting! Fancy Uncle being 
an anarchist — and throwing bombs and things! 
I do hope he's an anarchist! 

MARTHA {severely) 

Nonsense! Your uncle is too rich to be an an- 
archist! 

o'rourke {crosses to the telephone at the table ^ left) 
Just a minute! I'll call the superintendent. 
{Takes the phone,) Official 3. Is that you, 
Sullivan? There's a party here to see a Mr. 
Peter Vandusen, No. 374. One of the gintle- 
men's his brother. {Appraises Rutherford,) 
Yes, he's quite the gintleman — all dolled up 

87 



FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES 

fine. What is 374 being held for? The divil 
you say! Are you sure? All right. {He drops 
the receiver^ 

RUTHERFORD 

What is it? 
o'rourke 

It's morals, sir! 

MARTHA 

Morals ? {She rises,) 

RUTHERFORD 

Morals? What do you mean? 
o'rourke 

Case No. 374 arrived wid Case No. 375. 

MARTHA 

What on earth is that? 
o'rourke 

375 is a woman! 

RUTHERFORD 

A woman! 
MARTHA {shocked) 

Do you mean he came here from Paris with a 

lady? 
o'rourke 

No, ma'am, a woman! 
MARTHA {to Rutherford) 

Rutherford, my dear, do you think it right for 

Eugenia to remain here while we uncover the 

details of this disgusting affair? 

RUTHERFORD 

Certainly not, Martha. Eugenia, wait outside! 

EUGENIA 

Dad, please let me stay. I heard all about when 
Aunt Vera spent the week-end with the chauf- 

88 



THE FAMILY EXIT 



feur, and if I was old enough to hear about that, 
Tm old enough to hear about this, too. 

MARTHA 

This is quite a different matter. It isn't at all 
likely that my sister Vera would stoop to the 
depravities of which your father's brother is 
capable. 

RUTHERFORD (hotly) 

Until this day there has never been a breath of 
scandal linked with the name of Vandusen, 
but I well remember the weeks we spent worry- 
ing over the possibility of your sister's dis- 
graceful escapade becoming public. 

MARTHA 

At any rate, even if my sister was guilty of im- 
proper behavior, she had the decency to be im- 
proper in private, as a well-bred person should, 
instead of flaunting the scandal in the face of 
the entire United States, as your brother seems 
to be doing! 

RUTHERFORD 

Eugenia, on second thought, you may stay. I'm 
sure there must be some misunderstanding. 
No Rutherford-Vandusen could ever sink so 
low as to be capable of anything in the nature 
of your Aunt Vera's escapade. 

CORNELIUS 

How about me, Dad? 

MARTHA 

Don't be impertinent, Cornelius. 

RUTHERFORD {tO 0' Rouvke) 

Can we see my brother? 
o'rourke 

Sure, sir. The United States don't object to you 

89 



FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES 

seein* him. It's a pity he didn't let you know, 
sir, so's you could have tipped him off to come 
on one boat — and the female alien on the next. 
That's the regular way to do it, sir, with every- 
thing moral and aboveboard. 

CORNELIUS 

That's a cinch of a way to be moral! 
o'rourke 

Sure, sir. It's easy enough to be moral ! Comply 
wid the law of the United States, that's what 
we say. When a man knows that so long as he 
behaves decent when he comes into this coun- 
try, he can stay here and be as indecent as he 
pleases, it's a poor sort of morality, says we, 
for him not to come here on one ship an' her 
on another, an' comply wid the laws of the 
United States! 

CORNELIUS 

Say, what'U happen if 374 sticks to 375 ? 
o'rourke 

They'll both be sent back to Paris, sir, and 
that's the right place for them as has no self- 
control. Would you like to see the female alien 
along wid your brother, sir? 

MARTHA 

The female alien? Certainly not. 

CORNELIUS 

Mother! Be a sport! Let's look her over. 

MARTHA 

Do you want your mother and your sister to 
meet such a woman? 

EUGENIA 

I'd love to meet a really fallen woman. Mother. 
Besides, she's almost related to us, isn't she? 

90 



THE FAMILY EXIT 



MARTHA 

Eugenia, you're getting all kinds of wrong ideas 
in your head. Tm determined you shall not 
stay here. 

EUGENIA 

Where shall I go? 
MARTHA {points to the door^ lefty marked ^'Private''') 

May she wait in there ? 
o'rourke 

Sure, if she wants to, ma'am — but I don't 

advise it. 

MARTHA 

Why not? 
o'rourke 

That's where we keep the white slaves, ma'am. 

MARTHA 

White slaves! 
o'rourke 

Don't be scared, ma'am. They're just as scared 

of you as you are of them. 
MARTHA (hysterically) 

I wish we hadn't come. This place is full of 

dreadful people! 
o'rourke 

This room what you're in now, ma'am, was 

once the typhoid ward. 

{They all rise.) 

RUTHERFORD 

The typhoid ward! 

{Cornelius crosses to Eugenia.) 

o'rourke 

Yes, sir, and I've heard tell that they stacked 

91 



FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES 

the corpses one on top of another, during one 
of them epidemics, that high! {Pantomimes 
height to shoulders,) 

MARTHA 

I feel quite faint, Rutherford. 
o'rourke {laughs) 

Sure, it's all right now, ma'am. The old typhoid 
ward was burnt down years ago. V\\ go an' 
bring yer brother, sir. {He goes out, right,) 

MARTHA 

What a horrible creature! 
RUTHERFORD {sits at the table, left) 
What do you expect from a government official 
nowadays? Cornelius, this is what we get for 
electing a Democratic Administration. 

MARTHA 

Tm afraid to touch anything. I shan't be able 
to go near the children for a month. {She fans 
the air.) I can almost feel disease in the air! 

RUTHERFORD 

Don't fuss, Martha. 

MARTHA 

I'm not fussing, Rutherford. You annoy me so 
sometimes, I could almost scream. 

RUTHERFORD 

Scream, if you want to. 

EUGENIA 

Father! You know how nervous Mother is! 

MARTHA 

What does your father care about my nerves? 
His good-for-nothing brother spends twenty 
years in Europe, — refuses to have anything 
to do with his family all that time, and arrives 
here like a convict; and then nothing suits 

92 



THE FAMILY EXIT 



your father but that he must endanger our lives 
by bringing us to this disease-ridden place to 
meet him. 

RUTHERFORD 

Did I bring you here? Was it my idea? 

MARTHA 

Do you think I would have suggested coming 
here if you had told me the kind of place this 
was? 

RUTHERFORD 

How should I have known? 

MARTHA 

If you didn't waste all your time playing golf 
and sitting around at the club, you'd have made 
it your business to know, before bringing us 
here. 

RUTHERFORD 

Didn't you pester me to come? 

MARTHA 

I? 
RUTHERFORD 

Didn't you say that so long as Peter was so 
wealthy and had no heir, it was my duty to 
see we should all welcome him? 

MARTHA 

And what if I did ? The children have nothing — 
absolutely nothing — thanks to your gullibility! 

EUGENIA 

Oh, Mother, do stop! 

MARTHA 

I shall not stop. Your father had just as much 
money as your Uncle Peter in the beginning — 
and would have had to this day — if he hadn't 
speculated with it — and with my money into 

93 



FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES 

the bargain. I suppose we can thank our lucky 
stars there was some he couldn't touch, or we'd 
be beggars today. As it is, we have to pinch 
and scrape to get along on our niggardly thirty 
thousand a year! 

RUTHERFORD 

Are you never going to stop talking about that 
money? 

MARTHA 

Rutherford, so long as there is a breath left 
in my body, I shall say again what I have said 
before — you had no business to speculate if 
you weren't sure of not losing the money! 

CORNELIUS 

I wish you two wouldn't bother about what 
we're going to inherit. We're not worrying 
about it. 

EUGENIA 

I should think not! 

MARTHA 

Who's going to pay your debts if anything 
should happen to your father? 
CORNELIUS (with confidence) 
Why, my wife's father, of course. 

MARTHA 

That's all very well for you, Cornelius. You're 
a man. 

CORNELIUS 

Then why are you arguing? 

MARTHA 

What about your sister ? Who's willing to marry 
a girl without a penny ? 

CORNELIUS 

Sister'll have no difficulty. She's got enough 

94 



THE FAMILY EXIT 



sense to compromise herself with a millionaire, 
like any other poor society girl. 

MARTHA 

Eugenia will do no such thing. 

EUGENIA 

Mother! 

MARTHA 

There's been enough talk about the family 
already. I suppose we shall have to treat Uncle 
Peter cordially, in spite of everything. 

RUTHERFORD 

Yes, we'd better act discreetly. It is no use 
antagonizing Peter; he's very eccentric. He 
may object strongly to any criticism. 

MARTHA 

Very well, I shall do so — but it will be for 
your sake, Eugenia. 

EUGENIA 

Don't bother about me. Mother. 

MARTHA {to Eugenia) 

Your uncle can be of great assistance to you. 
Before he went to Paris he moved in the very 
smartest circles — if you can win his affections — 
in the way you seem to win the affections of all 
the poor young men in town — you should have 
no difficulty in making an excellent match this 
season. 

o'rourke {of stagey right) 
This way, sir. 

{Enter y right , Peter Rutherford-Vandusen, Peter 
is an aristocratic-looking old man^ with a keen 
sense of sarcastic humors and a distaste of con- 
ventional forms. The family stares at him) 

95 



FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES 

RUTHERFORD {cTosses to Peter) 

Why— Peter! 
PETER {to Rutherford) 

What the dickens did you want to come here 

for? 

RUTHERFORD 

Why— 

PETER 

Who told you I was here? 

RUTHERFORD 

Tillotson. 

PETER 

Tillotson is a gabbling fool. I shall get another 
lawyer immediately. Why did you come, 
anyway ? 

RUTHERFORD 

We came to welcome you, Peter. You don't 
seem very glad to see us. How are you ? 

PETER 

Oh, Tm quite well. I'm glad to see you. I 
suppose this is the family, eh ? Hello, Martha, 
Why, I hardly recognize you; youVe grown so 
stout. Is this Cornelius? Why didn't you come 
to see me when you were in Paris ? 

CORNELIUS 

I called several times, Uncle, but you were al- 
ways out. 

PETER 

That's right. I remember seeing you through 
the window. I vowed I wouldn't see any of the 
family for twenty years, and I kept my word. 

MARTHA 

You always were eccentric, Peter. 

96 



THE FAMILY EXIT 



PETER 

Not really, Martha. When a man does a ra- 
tional thing, the world calls him eccentric. I 
had nothing in common with any member of 
my family, so I stayed away from them for 
twenty years. There's nothing eccentric about 
that! 

MARTHA 

I hope youVe gotten over those queer ideas, 
Peter. But you haven't met your niece, 
Eugenia. 

PETER 

Oh, Eugenia! {He goes to shake hands with her. 
She kisses him.) Eugenia, you're just as im- 
pulsive as your mother was — thirty years ago. 

EUGENIA 

Am I, Uncle? 

MARTHA {piqued) 

I hope your uncle's terrible memory isn't as 
good as it was. 

PETER 

It gets better every day. Well, Rutherford, I 
suppose you know I'm in a fine mess here. 
RUTHERFORD {lookifig meaningly toward Eugenia) 
Do you think we'd better discuss it now? 

PETER 

Why not? Perhaps Eugenia could suggest 
something. Modern young people are probably 
much more resourceful in affairs of this sort 
than we old stagers. 

MARTHA 

Our daughter has been educated in one of our 
most exclusive schools. You may speak freely 
before her, Peter. 

97 



FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES 



EUGENIA {sweetly) 
Anything Uncle Peter does must surely be 
quite proper. 

PETER 

You're mistaken, my child. I'm not nearly 
as old as I look. 

EUGENIA 

I know. You're forty-five! 

PETER 

No, little flatterer, fifty-five. That's why I'm 
here again, to die in peace on good American 
soil. 

EUGENIA 

Don't talk that way. Uncle. Why, we are going 
to have the loveliest time with you. I have it 
all arranged. We are going to our place at 
Newport next month, and you'll come with us, 
won't you? We have perfectly wonderful golf, 
tennis, swimming, riding, and polo, and this 
year there's going to be hydro-aeroplaning, 
too. And there'll be lots of parties, and dances, 
and dinners, and bazaars, and things like that! 
You'll enjoy it so much. 

PETER 

Hm ! I don't know. It sounds rather strenuous. 
I don't think my nerves could stand it — es- 
pecially the hydro-aeroplaning! 

MARTHA 

You'll certainly live with us while you're here, 
Peter. We shall all feel quite hurt if you don't. 
We're looking forward to it, and I'm sure you'll 
enjoy it. Cousin Alice and Cousin Susan are 
going to spend the summer with us, too. 

98 



THE FAMILY EXIT 



PETER {alarmed) 

Cousin Alice and Cousin Susan — 
RUTHERFORD {grimly) 

Yes. 

PETER 

Are those two old cats still in existence? I 
thought they were dead and buried long ago ! 

MARTHA 

Peter, Peter! The same old Peter! 

PETER 

Martha! Martha! The same old family! 

MARTHA 

We all feel so glad having you back with us, 
Peter. Cousin Augustus and Honoria live in 
the next cottage to us. They have six children — 
all splendid young people — and there are Wil- 
helmina's twins, and the three grandchildren, 
the cutest things! They^re all dying to meet 
you! 
RUTHERFORD {as tJiough it Were all settled) 

Of course, you'll stay with us, Peter. We're 
planning a little family party for you. After 
twenty years of absence, we must celebrate 
your return to us. The family welcomes you, 
Peter, in spite of your strange behavior to us 
all. But once a Vandusen, always a Vandusen ! 

PETER 

Yes — it seems like fate. 

MARTHA 

Then we can count on you for the summer? 

PETER 

I don't know. {Dubiously,) What about Elise? 
ALL {together) 
Elise? 

99 



FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES 

EUGENIA 

Who is Elise? 
MARTHA {to Eugenia) 
Never mind, dear. 

PETER 

Of course, I can*t leave Elise. 

RUTHERFORD 

But, Peter, you don't expect — 

PETER 

But IVe brought her over from Paris. De- 
cidedly no. I can't leave my Elise. 

MARTHA 

But she can't stay in America. They won't 
allow her in. That person told us so just now. 
PETER {crosses to Martha) 

Well, I'll let you into a secret. Tillotson's been 
down to Washington for me. He has a little 
influence, as you know, and he's arranged every- 
thing. She's going to be allowed to land — in 
fact, both of us will be allowed to land to- 
gether. 

RUTHERFORD 

It seems to me it was very foolish of you, Peter, 
to have attempted to bring the lady with you. 

PETER 

That's an original observation of yours, Ruther- 
ford. 

CORNELIUS 

Why didn't you keep it quiet. Uncle? 

PETER 

Naturally, I tried to keep it quiet. But you 
don't know my Elise. She's so absent-minded. 
We had separate staterooms on board, but the 
poor thing kept walking into my cabin all the 

lOO 



THE FAMILY EXIT 



time we were crossing. She was sea-sick, poor 
child, and whenever she feels ill, she can't help 
acting naturally. But the upshot of it was, 
everyone was scandalized! 
MARTHA {dryly) 

I should think they might be. 

PETER 

Some stupid old busybody reported it to the 
authorities, so they made inquiries and stopped 
us here. 

EUGENIA 

Why didn't you marry her. Uncle? 

MARTHA 

Marry her! Eugenia! The idea! 

PETER 

Well, rd often thought of marrying Elise — but 
then — I didn't. Elise's father was a cab-driver 
— her mother drank abominably — and one of 
her brothers was a convict. And you know what 
the French are. Once you marry into a French 
family, death alone can separate you from your 
relatives ! 

MARTHA 

You were quite right, Peter. You couldn't pos- 
sibly have put up with such awful people. But 
I'm sure there is some way we can arrange it, — 
so you could stay with us yourself. You're a 
man of the world, Peter. You don't have to 
carry your establishment on your back, like a 
snail. 

PETER 

I've thought it all out already, Martha. Tillot- 
son tells me that even if Elise were allowed 
to land here, I couldn't go with her from New 

lOI 



FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES 

York City to Jersey without breaking another 
peculiar law. 

RUTHERFORD 

Yes — that is so — the Mann Act. 

PETER 

Fm certainly annoyed with Mr. Mann, who- 
ever he may be. You see, we planned to tour 
the States together later on, but if we did, I 
should break this law at least fifty times and 
probably pass the rest of my old age in jail. 

CORNELIUS 

Don't worry about that, Uncle! TU put you 
on to some dodges to get around that. 

PETER 

Fm too old for dodges, my boy. If Mr. Mann 
wants to prevent people traveling, let him do 
it. Tillotson and I have fixed everything. 
Fve been a confirmed bachelor all my life, but 
I've given up my freedom to enter the Land 
of Liberty. 

RUTHERFORD 

Given up your freedom to enter the Land of 
Liberty? 

PETER 

Yes. This morning Elise and I were married! 

RUTHERFORD 

Married! 

PETER 

Yes; it solves all our problems. The cab- 
driver papa-in-law, the alcoholic mamma-in-law, 
the convict brother-in-law are three thousand 
miles away — so Elise and I are married. 

I02 



THE FAMILY EXIT 



MARTHA {indignantly) 

Married! Do you mean you've married a kept 
woman? 

PETER 

I had to keep her, Martha. When you see her, 
you'll see she's quite unable to support herself. 

EUGENIA 

Is that woman my aunt. Uncle? 

PETER 

Yes; and you'll find her a very charming aunt, 
too. If you like her, we'll both come and stay 
with you. 
MARTHA {crossing to Eugenia) 

Do you mean to suggest bringing a person of 
that sort into our home? 

PETER 

Why not? The United States Government has 
guaranteed her lOO per cent pure. What more 
do you want? 

RUTHERFORD 

Peter! Your marrying her is nothing less than 
an affront to the family. 

PETER 

Rutherford, I'm surprised at you. You should 
be delighted to know that, like a Vandusen, 
I've acted honorably. 

MARTHA 

It may be honorable to her — but it's dishonor- 
able to us ! 

RUTHERFORD 

It's perfectly stupid to talk of acting honorably, 
Peter. If it were necessary for a man to 
marry a woman of that sort to be honorable, 
where would any of our own girls find husbands? 

103 



FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES 



PETER 

Well, it's too late to discuss the ethics of the 
situation. We're married, and that settles it. 
Would you like to meet your sister-in-law, 
Martha? 

MARTHA 

I shall certainly not meet her! Neither shall 

Eugenia ! 
PETER {points to the door^ left) 

Elise has been waiting in there to see you for 

nearly half an hour. Do you want to meet her? 

{He goes to the door^ left.) 
EUGENIA {excited) 

Mother! She's in the room with the white 

slaves ! 
MARTHA {making for the door) 

Rutherford, I insist that we go, at once! 

RUTHERFORD 

Yes, we'll all go. Come, Eugenia! 
{They leave indignantly, Cornelius lingers,) 

PETER {to Cornelius) 

Do you want to meet your aunt, Cornelius? 
CORNELIUS {enthusiastically) 

You bet I do. Uncle. I guess she's some kid, 

eh? 
PETER {with a queer smile) 

Well, she is — in a way. 
CORNELIUS {knowingly) 

You've got to hand it to the French chickens 

when it comes to class. Uncle. I've been there 

myself — so I know. 

{Peter opens the door^ left. Enter Elise, a charm- 
ing little white-haired old lady, dressed in a black 

104 



THE FAMILY EXIT 



satin dress, with a white lace collar. She is dig- 
nified, yet sweet in her manner. Cornelius lets 
out a whistle of surprise. Peter introduces 
Cornelius?) 

PETER 

Your nephew, Cornelius. 

ELISE 

Bon jour, m'sieu! I speak not good englise. 
CORNELIUS {with a dreadful accent) 

Bon jour, tante. Comment vous allez vous? 
ELiSE {smiling graciously) 

Vouz parlez frangais? 
CORNELIUS {confused) 

Oui, madame — Well, Uncle, I guess Til beat 

it! {He does so, double quick time.) 

ELISE 

Why does he go so quick? Do I frighten him? 

PETER 

He must have been disappointed, little wife. 
He was hoping to find something in the nature 
of what he termed "a chicken". 
ELiSE {puzzled) 
A chick-en? Ah — poulet! What you mean, 
Peter? 

PETER 

He didn't know weVe lived together these 
past twenty years. 

ELISE 

But the family — the dreadful family, that you 
hate so much? 

PETER 

Gone, dear, gone! 

105 



FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES 

ELISE 

Gone? C^est merveilleux ! How do you get 
rid of these 'orrible people so easy? 

PETER 

By marrying you, dear. In France, I got rid 
of your family by not marrying you. In America, 
I get rid of my family l^y marrying you. 

CURTAIN 



io6 



■- \ 



PIE 

A COMEDY IN ONE ACT 



Pie was first produced by the Provincetown Players 
at the Playwrights' Theatre, New York, in January 
1920, with the following cast: 

Clifford Quilter James Light 

DiANTHA, his wife Edie Hinemann 

Patrolman Dan O'Donahue Howard McLennon 

Annie Mulligan Alice Rostetter 



Produced under the direction of The Author 



Copyright, 1919 

By LAWRENCE LANGNER 

All Rights Reserved 



PIE 

SCENE 

A comfortable room in Annie Mulligan^ s apart- 
ment. In the center is a small table covered 
with a white table-cloth and laid for two people. 
Notwithstanding the commonplace furniturCy the 
room is cosy^ and not unattractive. The presence 
of an armchair and desk^ newspapers on the floor y 
books scattered everywhere^ and a general air of 
being lived in, indicates that the room is not used 
exclusively as a dining-room. There is a door, 
center, leading to the hall. Viewed from the audi- 
ence, there is a window in the right wall, and a 
door in the left wall leading to the kitchen; a 
bright, green flower-pot stands in front of the 
window. 

Cliford ^uilter and Annie Mulligan are finish- 
ing dinner. Clifford alternately gnaws the end 
of a chicken bone, and takes a puff at his pipe. 
Annie, after drinking some coffee from her saucer, 
divides an apple pie into large portions with 
mathematical precis io n . 

Clifford is a tall, mild-looking person, rather boyish 
in his enthusiasm over the chicken. He wears 
a brightly-colored dressing-gown and carpet slip- 
pers; he looks dreamily up at the ceiling through 
a pair of heavy horn-rimmed glasses. His utter 
lack of table manners shows that he is very much 

at home. 

109 



FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES 

Annie is a large^ blonde Irishwoman; the gen- 
erous curves of her body indicate an easy-going 
disposition and an indulgence in good food. Her 
smile is contagious. There is something very ap- 
petizing in the sight of Annie ^ as she cuts a gen- 
erous portion of apple pie, and balancing it neatly 
on the end of a bread-knife^ offers it to Clifford. 

ANNIE (beaming on Clifford) 
Have a piece of pie, dearie! 

CLIFFORD 

Tm not through with the chicken yet, Annie. 
{He looks over the debris of the chicken on the 
plate.) What's become of the otjier leg? 
ANNIE {angrily) 

Sure, d'ye expect a chicken to have three legs? 
Two youVe eaten, and now you're lookin' 
for the third! 

CLIFFORD 

How absent-minded of me. I was thinking of 
the plot of a new story. Let me tell it to you ! 
ANNIE {incensed) 

What a man! Always having plots at dinner- 
time ! 

CLIFFORD 

But, Annie — 

ANNIE 

Why don't ye work while ye work {swallows 

a mouthful) y an' eat while ye eat? 
CLIFFORD {apologetically) 

Why — I was eating, Annie. 
ANNIE {still angry) 

I know you was, CHfford, but you was payin' 

no attention to what you was eatin'. Half 

no 



PIE 

the day Tm in the kitchen, cookin' the tasty 
meals for you — and you — no sooner do you get 
your teeth into a nice young broiler, before you 
have a plot, — an' by the time you're through 
wid it, the chicken's nearly all gone, an' you 
no more tastin' it than if it was cornmeal mush. 
It's heart-breakin' work, it is, Clifford, cookin' 
for a man like you! 
CLIFFORD {rises and pats her consolingly) 

Come, Annie, dear. Don't feel hurt. I do ap- 
preciate your cooking — immensely. Your 
chicken was a masterpiece; there was an in- 
definable something about its flavor, Annie, 
that just carried me away — over the chimney- 
tops and roofs of the city — away to the balmy 
countryside — into Elysian Fields of sunshine, 
into drowsy, fulsome farmyards, with the 
browsing cattle and clucking hens. Then, Annie, 
there was woven in my mind, a simple, beauti- 
ful story — of love unfulfilled — of sacrifice un- 
rewarded! Annie, I salute you. (He bows,) 
Your cooking is poetry to my soul. 

ANNIE {still angry) 

Your soul! Go along wid you. You don't 
know the diflference between your soul and 
your stomach. 

CLIFFORD 

How few of us do ? However, that's philosophy, 
and thank the Lord, you don't understand 
philosophy. {He sits.) Please give me a piece 
of pie — and see whether I appreciate it ! 

{Annie helps him to pie.) 

Ill 



FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES 

ANNIE (happily) 
There ! 

CLIFFORD [adoringly^ after having choked down 
a large mouthful) 

Wonderful apple pie! Wonderful apple pie! 
How I have sung of your delicate aroma — the 
satisfying qualities of your amber-colored sub- 
stance — the exquisite crispness of your daintiest 
of crusts! And above all, O pie — excelling — 
nay — eclipsing all those other virtues — more 
precious than all the rest — I sing the praise 
of your delectable digestibility. 

ANNIE {wreathed in smiles) 
Don't talk so much. Eat! 

{Clifford needs no second invitation,) 

CLIFFORD 

Do you remember how I immortalized your pie 
in my last novel, Annie, dear? A review of it 
has just come out in the Literary Digest. 

ANNIE 

No! 

CLIFFORD 

Let me read it to you. {Clifford takes a clipping 
out of his pocket and reads.) "In these days 
when morbid introspection holds the literary 
stage, when novelist after novelist takes a 
gruesome, macabre-like delight in analyzing 
and dissecting the grossest phases of man- 
kind's abnormalities, how refreshing it is to 
come upon a book, like *Happy Firesides,' by 
Clifford Quilter, and to know that clean, whole- 
some literature is not yet dead in America. 
*Happy Firesides,' a plain, simple story of the 

112 



PIE 

love of a good man for a good woman, and the 
spiritual happiness their unselfishness brought 
them, should be read by every one who believes 
in upholding the sacred traditions of the home." 
{To AnnieJ) There! What do you think of 
that? {Annie begins to weep in a very ungrace- 
ful manner^ What's the matter? 

ANNIE (bursts out) 

I think you ought to leave me and go back to 
your wife. 

CLIFFORD {startled) 

What! Go back to my wife? What an un- 
pleasant thought! 

ANNIE 

But, Clifford— 
CLIFFORD {interrupting quickly and holding out 
his plate) 

Some more pie, dear. I have a good appetite 
today. Dont make me lose it. 

ANNIE 

Sure, an' it does me heart good to see you eatin' 
so well, Clifford. But it's back to your wife 
you should go, dearie. 
CLIFFORD {rises and caresses her) 

Come, Annie, you've never asked me to go 
back to my wife before. Be reasonable, dear! 

ANNIE {gulps) 

Sure, I'm tryin' to be reasonable. D'ye think 
I want you to go away and leave me, after the 
happy days we've had together? 

CLIFFORD 

Then why do you ask me to go? {Suspiciously.) 
Somebody must have been putting silly no- 

113 



FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES 

tions into your head. Whatever gave you such 
a stupid idea? 

ANNIE 

I — I — I've been reading "Happy Firesides." 
CLIFFORD (taken aback) 
YouVe read "Happy Firesides"! Why, Annie, 
I thought you never read anything {sotto voce) 
outside of the New York American. {He sits.) 

ANNIE 

I picked it up off the floor last week. I never 
thought Fd understand it, wid all them big 
long words you use when you're talkin', but, 
honest, Clifford, it didn't seem no more harder 
than Ella Wheeler Wilcox, an' just as inter- 
estin', too. 

CLIFFORD (indignantly) 

My dear Annie, please don't compare me with 
Ella Wheeler Wilcox. 

ANNIE (reassuring) 

Sure, an' I didn't mean her no harm, dearie. 

CLIFFORD (sarcastically) 
Indeed ! 

ANNIE (sentimentally) 

What you said about love and the home, an* 
all them things, honey, was just beautiful, an', 
what's more, they're true! It just broke my 
heart thinkin' how you was livin' wid me, in- 
stead of wid your wife, an' your thoughts so 
lovely and pure, an' all. Honest, Clifford, the 
day I finished readin' it, I had to go out into 
the kitchen and peel onions, just to have an 
excuse if the neighbors seen me cryin' ! 

CLIFFORD (comforts her, taking her hands across the 
table) 

114 



PIE 

Come, come, my poor old Annie! Why didn't 
you tell your Clifford all about it before? 

ANNIE 

I just couldn't, dearie. I thought you'd think 
me ungrateful after we've been so happy 
together. You've been so kind, too. 
CLIFFORD {with great sincerity) 

Kind? Why, Annie, it's you that's been kind. 
You've taken me under your wing, dear; you've 
been mother and sweetheart to me — all in 
one. Don't talk of my being kind, Annie, 
you're the kindest person in the world, dear, and 
I do, do love you! 

ANNIE 

Sure, you're that nice, makin' love to me, Clif- 
ford, I feel Hke tellin' Dan O'Donahue to go 
to the divil. 
CLIFFORD (rises y surprised) 
Dan O'Donahue? Who's he? 

ANNIE 

He's me cousin. 

CLIFFORD 

Your cousin ? How was it you've never men- 
tioned him before? 

ANNIE 

I was kind-a ashamed to. 

CLIFFORD 

Ashamed? Why? 
ANNIE (apologetically) 

Well — you see — he's a policeman. 

CLIFFORD 

Oh! 

ANNIE 

He says we ain't livin' moral. 

115 



FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES 

CLIFFORD 

Of course he'd say that! What do you expect a 
policeman to know about morality? 

ANNIE 

And it's right he is. Sure, you say so yourself. 
CLIFFORD (astonished) 
I say so? 

ANNIE 

Yes, you say it in "Happy Firesides." 
CLIFFORD Qiis voice Jailing) 
I do? 

ANNIE 

Don't you remember how Jack Maitland went 

back to his wife? 
CLIFFORD {taken aback) 

That's true. He did. But then, dear, I'm 

no Jack Maitland. Have you a copy of the 

book here? 
ANNIE {points to the desk) 

Sure, it's there, in the drawer. {Cliford rises 

and fumbles at the drawer) Can't you find it? 

It's underneath the Bible. 

CLIFFORD 

Here it is. (He produces the book, turns pages.) 
Now, Annie, listen to this: {He reads) "One 
wishes that some new form of descriptive art 
could be evolved to describe a man like Jack 
Maitland. Something more graphic than ver- 
biage is needed to do justice to his portrayal. 
Jack Maitland was a man of more than rugged 
physique. Health and strength radiated from 
his lithe, muscular body. His flashing eyes, his 
ruby lips, his white teeth glinting in the sunlight, 
all told the tale of masculine virility, of bouhd- 

ii6 



PIE 

less energy, of courage, skill, and determina- 
tion." {He half closes the book,) There, Annie, 
I ask you, is that like me ? 
ANNIE {dubiously) 

Well, it's somethin' like you. 

CLIFFORD 

I have white teeth. 
ANNIE {encouragingly) 

Sure, it's too modest you are, Clifford. 

CLIFFORD 

But listen to this; "Like all who enjoy a rude, 
vigorous health, his appetite was voracious and 
his digestion like that of an ostrich." Is that 
like me ? {He thrusts the book at her,) 

ANNIE 

There's nothing wrong wid your appetite. 

CLIFFORD {closes the book) 

Annie, the hero of this book had courage and 
determination. In addition, he had an excel- 
lent digestion. He was able to return to his wife, 

ANNIE {emphatically) 

And so must you, dearie. 

CLIFFORD 

IVe none of those things, and I'm going to stay 

right here. 
ANNIE {dogmatically) 

What's right for Jack Maitland, Clifford, is 

right for you! You mustn't try to make me 

believe that wrong is right. 
CLIFFORD {hotly) 

Wrong and right are merely relative. 
ANNIE {positively) 

And it's relatives that causes all the trouble. 

117 



FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES 

Dan says they won't ever forgive me as long 
as you live here. 

CLIFFORD 

Suppose they don't. What do you care ? 

ANNIE 

Sure, I've got to consider my relatives. Dan 
says so! 

CLIFFORD 

Dan, Dan, Dan! How often do you see Dan? 

ANNIE 

Why, he comes here to dinner once in a while 
when you're away. 

CLIFFORD {significantly) 

Ah! While I'm away! He has probably heard 
you inherited a little money. Does he know 
about it? 

ANNIE (with rising emotion) 

Sure, but it isn't that. It isn't only what Dan 
says. {She points to the book?) You said it ain't 
right yourself. I ain't happy no more. If you 
don't go, / shall have to! 

CLIFFORD {with feeling) 

Come, Annie, my darling, you're not serious, 
are you? You don't understand what this 
means to me. You know I can't write at home, 
with Diantha fussing around the house, grum- 
bling every time a room is untidy, and a ter- 
rible cook, who martyrs me at every meal! 

ANNIE {forcefully) 

Right comes before writin'. 

CLIFFORD {pleading) 

You're such a simple, sweet dear, Annie, you 
don't realize the subtle relation between your 
exquisite food and my spiritual well-being. 

1x8 



PIE 

When I was at home, dear, the matter of food 
was left by my wife to a succession of incom- 
petent hussies who called themselves cooks, and 
set out to murder me with their villainous con- 
coctions. Thank goodness, no single one stayed 
long enough to put me completely underground. 

ANNIE (melting) 
How you do talk! 

CLIFFORD {oratorically) 
What happened to me on the delicatessen diet 
they fed me? They poisoned me with pickles. 
They tortured me with ptomaine! I was the 
victim of every form of gastric disorder. I 
became morbid. I wrote delicatessen novels. 
I delved into the vinegars and acids of life. I 
plunged deep into the brine of human misery. 
I wallowed in the oil of human slime! And then 
I came to you, Annie, — acidified, salted, pickled. 
And you healed me — healed me with the blessed 
salve of your good home cooking. Annie, 
youVe saved me once. Don't throw me back 
to home and indigestion. 

ANNIE {distraught) 
Oh, dearie, I just don't know what to do. It's 
terrible for us to be leadin' a life of shame, 
and it agreein' wid you so well! 

CLIFFORD (indignantly) 
A life oiF shame. Who said that? 

ANNIE 

Them's Dan's own words. 

CLIFFORD 

What do you care for the opinion of a man like 
Dan? He has the common, conventional point 
of view about morality. Artists are above 

119 



FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES 



morality. In living with me, Annie, no matter 
what the world may say, you show a fine pagan 
spirit. {He sits in the armchair*) 

ANNIE 

Pagan! Go 'long wid ye — it's a Catholic I am. 

CLIFFORD {takes a clipping from his pocket. Annie 
standsy center) 

See what they say here, dear — "American 
literature owes much to Mr. Quilter for show- 
ing us the blessings of the simple, domestic vir- 
tues, and the quiet delights of family life." 
I can't write that on delicatessen, Annie dear. 

ANNIE {bursts) 

I can't help it, Clifford, I want to be an honest 
woman. 

CLIFFORD 

What could be jnore honest, more honorable, 
than to help me write novels like "Happy Fire- 
sides," which extol the ideal of happy homes? 
I appeal to your sense of duty, Annie. You're 
not only making me happy, dear, you're making 
men happy, and women happy, and children 
happy, all over the United States, and even in 
England. 
ANNIE {dubiously) 
Am I? 

CLIFFORD 

And you must keep it up, dear, you mustn't 
stop. Why, Annie, rather than have this calam- 
ity happen, I'll go to Diantha, get a divorce, 
and marry you! 
ANNIE {aghast) 

An' have me called a homewrecker by every- 
body ? 

1 20 



PIE 

CLIFFORD 

No, dear, no! 
ANNIE {a light dawning on her) 

Vm. a vampire, that's what I am. 
CLIFFORD {soothingly ^ rising) 

A vampire! Why, the idea! Nobody will 

think you a vampire, dear. 

ANNIE 

Yes they will, dearie, if I give way to myself 
and drive your wife out, and wreck her home, 
and ruin her life. I will be a vampire. I'll lose 
my self-respect. 

CLIFFORD {with bravado) 

Fd like to see that Dan O'Donahue! Td tell 
him what I think of him. 

ANNIE {assuringly) 

He's goin' to be here in a minute. 

CLIFFORD {his bravado disappearing) 
Well, I guess I don't want to see him, anyway. 
He's caused enough mischief. 

ANNIE {persuasively) 

Run along before he comes, Clifford. Why 
don't you go back home for a few days, honey 
dear, and we'll both think it over. Do it just 
to please me. I want to feel right about it, 
honest I do. 

CLIFFORD {tenderly) 

I know you do, Annie. Very well, I'll go and 
talk it over with Diantha. Where are my shoes ? 

{He slips of his dressing-gown^ which he throws on 
the floor y and kicks ofl his slippers. They hunt on 
their hands and knees for his shoeSy which are 
found under the furniture.) 

121 



FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES 

ANNIE 

I sure will miss you, dearie! 
CLIFFORD {sitting in the armchair and putting on his 
shoes) 

We'll both be sorry, Annie. But we won't 
quarrel over it, dear. We never have quarreled, 
and we're not going to begin now, are we? 

ANNIE 

Of course not. Kiss me goodbye! {They kiss 
and move toward the door. She helps him with his 
coat and hat.) Here's your umbrella! Let 
me wrap you up a piece of pie to put in your 
pocket, dearie. 

CLIFFORD 

I'll take it for remembrance. But, no! I must 
try to forget. {They kiss again.) Goodbye! 

{Cliford goes out, center. Annie reads from book 
at table.) 

ANNIE {sighs) 

What's right is right! {She carries the cofee-pot 
to the door leading to the kitchen and goes out.) 

{Enter Cliford, center; he tiptoes to the pie dishy 
cuts a piece of pie, and goes to the drawer of the 
desk, from which he takes some paper; he wraps the 
pie up in the paper. Meanwhile, the door, center, 
opens; enter stealthily Dan O'Donahue, a big, red- 
faced policeman. He tiptoes behind Clifford and 
as Clifford puts the parcel containing the pie in his 
pocket, Dan pounces upon him and grabs the 
parcel.) 

DAN 

No you don't! 

122 



PIE 



CLIFFORD 

What's the matter? 

DAN 

ril show you what's the matter! What are 
you stealing? 

{Annie comes in from the kitchen.) 

ANNIE 

Sure, an' what is the matter? 
DAN {excitedly) 

You sure are lucky, Annie. I seen this here guy 
walkin' up the street, lookin' kinda hesitatin' 
and I thinks to myself, "There goes a real hard- 
boiled egg/' You can always tell a criminal 
by the shape of his head, Annie, an' when I 
seen this little runt, I sizes him up, and begins 
to follow him. And all of a sudden he stops 
at your front door, opens it wid a key^ mind you, 
closes it quietly, walks upstairs on tiptoe, and 
I just gets here in time to see him slip this here 
parcel into his pocket. 

CLIFFORD 

But I can explain everything. 
DAN {vindictively) 

I know you oily guys. You'll explain to the 
judge. Come to look at you, I know you. 
You've been in jail before. 

ANNIE 

Why, I know the gentleman. Dan, let go of 

him. 

DAN 

Yer tryin' to shield him, Annie. Don't waste 
your pity on a crook like him. What's in the 

parcel? 

123 



FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES 



ANNIE 

I tell you he ain't a crook. 
DAN {puzzled) 

Then who is he? 
ANNIE {hesitates) 

Why — why — he's my gentleman friend. 
DAN {taken aback) 

He is ? But you said he was a regular gentleman ! 

ANNIE 

Didn't I tell you he was an author? 

DAN 

What's he got in this parcel? 
{Annie opens the parcel.) 

ANNIE 

Pie! 

DAN {positively aghast) 
Apple pie! Well! 

CLIFFORD 

Goodbye, Annie. Goodbye, Mr. O'Donahue. 
I'm going to ask the Police Commissioner to 
promote you. 
DAN {surly) 

Indade, an' where to? 

CLIFFORD 

They need men like you in the Intelligence 
Department. {He goes out,) 

DAN 

Has he gone for good ? 
ANNIE {sadly) 

Yes, I suppose so. 
DAN {approvingly) 

Fine business. Yer doin' right, Annie. Just 

finished dinner, eh? 

124 



PIE 



ANNIE 

We was just through. 

DAN 

That's a good-lookin' chicken ye have there! 
ANNIE {not very inviting) 

It's cold, or Fd ask you to have some. 
DAN {not at all abashed) 

Sure, I don't mind it cold. 

ANNIE 

Help yerself if you're hungry. {She gives htm 
knife yforky and plate.) 

DAN 

Thank you, Annie. {He sits at the table tn Clif- 
ford's chair,) 
ANNIE {resigned) 

I'll get you a cup of hot coffee. 

DAN 

That'll be great, Annie. 

{Annie goes of, Dan literally falls upon the food. 
His appetite completely eclipses that of Cliford. 
He rapidly devours the remains of the chicken, 
as well as the apple pie, and then he unwraps the 
piece of pie wrapped up in paper and consumes 
that as well. Enter Annie, left, with cofee.) 

ANNIE 

Here you are. {She hands him a cup of coffee.) 

DAN 

That smells like good coffee. {He drinks.) 1 
had a talk wid the family about you, Annie, 
and it's goin' to be all right. We're all willing 
to forget the past. Now, what I've bin thinkm| 
is this. We've got to get the folks together, an' 

I2S 



FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES 

my idea is you should have them all here to 
dinner next Sunday. 

ANNIE 

Dan, will they really forgive me? 

DAN 

Lave it to me. You can always rely on me, 
Annie, to handle the folks. {Surveying the empty 
dishes^ Gosh, don't the walkin' around in the 
fresh air make a man hungry? 

ANNIE 

Will you have a bit of cheese? 

DAN 

Why, I guess I could make room for a bite or so. 
{Annie gets the cheese from the cupboard^ Annie, 
I got some good news for yer. I told the Cap- 
tain of my precinct I had a cousin, an unpro- 
tected female, livin' in this block, and he's 
bin and transferred me to this beat, so Til be 
able to look in here every hour or so for a bit 
o' — er — conversation wid yer. 

ANNIE {alarmed by the prospect^ 

Well, now, if you're on duty, you can't be comin' 
in here all the time now, can you ? 

DAN {knowingly) 

Lave it to me, Annie. Lave it to me! {The bell 
rings,) 

ANNIE 

Who can that be? 

DAN 

Was you expectin' somebody? 
ANNIE {puzzled) 

Not a soul. I've got my old dress on. Will 
ye go to the door? 

126 



PIE 

DAN 

All right. 

{Dan goes outy center. Annie stands near, peer- 
ing through a gap in the door. Dan comes back.) 

DAN 

It's a lady to see yer, an' she won't give her 
name. 

ANNIE 

It ain't the lady from the laundry? 

DAN 

It's a real swell dame! 
ANNIE {flustered) 

Ask her in, Dan, while I go and change my 
dress. You talk to her. 

DAN 

What shall I talk about? 

ANNIE 

Oh, anything. Tell her about some of them 
swell murder cases you was in. {Annie goes ojff^ 
left.) 

{Dan opens the door^ center^ and calls.) 

DAN {officially) 

Step this way, please. 

{Enter Diantha ^uilter. She is a good-looking^ 
artistically dressed woman ^ slightly freakish in 
appearance. She wears a one-piece gown. She 
paces the room restlessly as she talks,) 

DIANTHA 

I hope I'm not intruding? 

DAN 

Sit down and make yourself comfortable, 

127 



FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES 

ma'am. Annie was just giving me a little lunch. 
Maybe you'd like a drink of coffee ? 
DiANTHA (shudders) 

Thank you. I never take coffee ! 

DAN 

Would yer like a bit of bread and cheese? 
DIANTHA (shuddering still more) 

Thank you. I've just finished dinner, and I'm 

afraid it hasn't quite agreed with me. Besides, 

I never take cheese. 
DAN (attempting jocularity) 

You should be a policeman, ma'am, ye'd take 

anything. 

DIANTHA 

That seems to be so. I understand you took 
my husband's pie. 
DAN (taken aback) 

Your husband! Was that your husband? 

DIANTHA 

It was. Don't look so startled. I still know my 
husband when I see him. 

DAN 

I sure am sorry for yer, ma'am. It's me that's 
makin' him go back to ye. 

DIANTHA 

Ah! So you're the cause of all this trouble. 

DAN 

Trouble ? 

DIANTHA 

To think of my husband being sent back to me 
by a policeman. It's humiliating. 

DAN 

Isn't it glad ye are to have him back wid yei* 

128 



PIE 

DIANTHA 

Glad? How absurd. Don't you know I don't 
get along with my husband? 

DAN 

I nivver knew a thing about it. He looks to me 
like a mighty fine feller, ma'am. 

DIANTHA 

Vm glad you like him. Perhaps you'll help me. 
Have you any influence over the lady who lives 
here, Mr.— ? 

DAN 

O'Donahue's me name. Sure, ma'am, that I 
have. I'm her cousin. Won't you set down, 
ma'am? 
DIANTHA (sils at the table. Dan sits at the other side) 
Very well. Let me tell you why I want you to 
help me. In addition to being Mr. Quilter's 
wife, Mr. O'Donahue, I'm an interior decorator. 
In fact, / originated the Home Beautiful. 

DAN 

Beggin' yer pardon, ma'am, but what the divil 
is that? 

DIANTHA 

Haven't you heard of the Home Beautiful? 

DAN 

No; nor seen one, neither. 
DIANTHA (reciting her favorite formula) 

Why, the Home Beautiful is a home, beauti- 
fully decorated, harmonized to the personality 
of its occupants. I believe, Mr. O'Donahue, 
that a refined, tastefully decorated home shows 
at once that the people living in it possess dis- 
tinction and culture. Don't you agree with me? 
^ 129 



FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES 

DAN 

Sure, ma*am. But I bet them things cost like 
the dickens. 
DiANTHA (rises) 

Cost has nothing to do with it, Mr. O'Donahue. 
This is the kind of a room my husband Hkes. 
Look at the hideous green flower-pot. Look 
at his slippers there, his pipe on the table, 
his dressing-gown on the floor, and cigarette 
ashes strewn everywhere. What kind of a Home 
Beautiful could / have if my husband lived in 
it? I appeal to you, Mr. O'Donahue. (She sits.) 

DAN 

Sure, a man's got to have his little comforts, 
ma'am. 

DIANTHA 

His comforts are my discomforts. But he and 
I have been getting along splendidly since he's 
been living here. The arrangement is perfect. 
I'm known as Mrs. Quilter, the wife of the cele- 
brated novelist, and it helps me in a professional 
way. In return, whenever Clifford writes a 
novel, I decorate the different rooms he de- 
scribes, so that his readers haven't the faintest 
idea he has such abominably bad taste. 

DAN 

But wouldn't it be better, ma'am, if you and 
him was livin' together, like a nice, respectable 
married couple? 

DIANTHA 

Clifford is right. You are interfering. 
(Severely,) You'd better think twice before 
you come between husband and wife, Mr. 
O'Donahue. 

130 



PIE 

DAN (rises) 

He ain't going to live here^ that's all! 
DiANTHA {rises) 

You're simply jealous. You're just interfering 

because you like the food here. 

DAN 

Who told you that? 

DIANTHA 

Clifford. And I believe him. He says you al- 
ways call at meal times. 

DAN 

It's a lie, ma'am. It's an insult to me uni- 
form. 

{Enter Annie, dressed in a tight-fitting white 
gown; her face is very red.) 

DIANTHA {astonished) 
Why! Annie Mulligan! 

ANNIE 

Lor'! The missus! 
DIANTHA {repeating with astonished deliberation) 
Annie Mulligan ! 

ANNIE 

Yes, ma'am. 

DIANTHA 

I thought you went with a family in Philadelphia. 

ANNIE {dramatically) 

Didn't he tell you — I was — she? 
DIANTHA {a light dawning on her) 

Not a word. The wretch! 

ANNIE 

Mavbe he was afraid, ma'am. 

DIANTHA 

I'll never forgive him, never! 

131 



FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES 

ANNIE 

Oh, ma'am! 

DIANTHA 

You were the best cook I ever had. I wouldn't 
have lost^o^ for anything. 

ANNIE {taking Clifford's part) 

Sure, it wasn't his fault, ma'am, indeed it 
wasn't. I never would have left you, if you 
hadn't insisted on me doin' the washin' and 
ironin', as well as the cookin' and general house- 
work. 

DIANTHA {sharply) 
You made an absurd fuss about the washing 
and ironing. There was hardly a half-day's 
work a week. 

ANNIE {her temper rising) 

I know I'm a bad woman, Mrs. Quilter, but 
I will not do washin' and ironin' under sixty- 
five a month, not for nobody. 

DIANTHA 

This is all too trifling to quarrel about. Tell 
me, Annie, how did this affair start with my 
husband? 

ANNIE 

Why, ma'am, he was that uncomfortable at 
home, upsettin' the beautiful furniture in all 
them fine rooms, so when you was away lec- 
turin' on the Home Beautiful, he used to stay 
out in the kitchen so as not to disturb anything, 
and there he'd be, handin' me the saucepans, 
and helpin' me to wash up. It was that ro- 
mantic, ma'am, was it any wonder I fell in love 
with him? 

132 



PIE 

DIANTHA 

And then? 

ANNIE 

After I left, ma'am, I come into a little money, 
an* started housekeepin' on me own account, 
an' he begged me to take him in as a lodger, 
an' you know how he talks, ma'am, just Hke 
a book, an' I — I — I — {Annie sobs,) 

DIANTHA 

Well, how do you feel about it? 
ANNIE {proudly) 

I've been a regular vampire, ma'am. But 
I've done right in the end. I've sent him back 
to you, ma'am, and he is in better condition 
now than he ever was. 

DAN 

You've done right, Annie. 

DIANTHA 

But I don't want him back. 

ANNIE 

Don't want him? 
DIANTHA {shuddering) 

Before I say another word, you must remove 
that terrible green flower-pot. It's been making 
me nervous ever since I came into the room. 
{To Dan.) Move it over here. {Dan does so 
with obvious surprise.) No. Over there. {Dan 
goes back.) It isn't right yet. Never mind. I'll 
cover it. {She covers it with her scarf. She speaks 
to Dan in a businesslike way,) Now, give me 
a hand with this. {She begins moving the table^ 
Dan and Annie assisting her,) Move it more this 
way. No; more that way. Stop, stop! There, 
that makes the place a little more attractive. 

^33 



FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES 

{She then rearranges chairs in other parts of the 
room,) That's better. I simply can't sit com- 
fortably in a room that doesn't harmonize. 
{To Annie.) Now, Annie, I want to talk this 
over with you alone. {She looks meaningly 
at Dan.) 

ANNIE 

You'd better be going about your business, 
Dan. {Dan does not stir.) For all you know 
there might be a murder on this block this 
very minute. 
DAN {moving towards the door) 

I guess I ain't wanted here, but I warn you, 
Annie, if you don't defend the honor of the 
Mulligans, I will. 

ANNIE 

Honor o' the Mulligans! Sure, you'll have 
enough to do to look after your own honor. Go 
'long wid ye and catch the murderer. {She 
pushes Dan to the door^ center.) 

DAN 

There ain't no murderer. What are vou talkin' 
about! {He goes out.) 

DIANTHA 

Annie, I can't understand your deserting my 
husband for that stupid creature! 

ANNIE 

I'm not desertin' him, ma'am. I'm givin' him 
back to you. 

DIANTHA 

Let's sit down and talk this over. {Annie sits.) 
Before we start, Annie, do you happen to have 
any bicarbonate of soda? 

134 



PIE 

ANNIE 

Not a bit, ma'am. 

DIANTHA 

Just my luck. Never mind. Cigarette? {She 
offers a cigarette to Annie ^ who refuses. Biantha 
lights her own cigarette^ throws the match on the 
floor ^ picks it up, looks for an ash tray^ and hands 
the match to Annie. Annie throws it back on the 
floor.) We both love Clifford, don't we? Let's 
forget about ourselves and do what is best for 
him. You know very well you don't want to send 
Clifford home. You're only doing it because 
some one influenced you to do it. Don't you 
know, Annie, if you do something against your 
own better judgment, then it isn't right, and 
when it isn't right, it's wrong, and when it's 
wrong, it's immoral? 

ANNIE 

Is it? 

DIANTHA 

Of course. And if you send Clifford away, 
against your own sense of what's right, you'll 
be an immoral woman! Yes, Annie, an im- 
moral woman! 

ANNIE 

Sure, I'm immoral if he stays, an' immoral if 
he goes. What'U I do? 

DIANTHA 

Just let things be as they were, Annie. Be un- 
selfish! Don't gratify your desire to be con- 
ventional. 

ANNIE (suspiciously) 

But why don't you want him, ma'am? 



FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES 

DIANTHA 

Because he really loves you, Annie, and you 
love him. Your love has made him happy. 
I was never able to do that. 

ANNIE 

An' why not, ma'am? 

DIANTHA {abstractedly) 

Well, you see, he married me on an intellectual 
basis, Annie. He said he liked my mind. But 
when two people marry that way, Annie, it 
never lasts, because as soon as a woman dis- 
agrees with a man, he begins to dislike her 
mind. Now it's entirely different with you, 
Annie. No matter whether or not Clifford 
likes your mind, he'll always like your cooking. 
Your love will last. 

ANNIE {brightening) 
Will it, ma'am? 

DIANTHA 

It will, indeed. I'm fond of him, Annie, but 
I'm a modern woman. I'll make the sacrifice. 
I'll give him back to you, if you'll take him. Do 
it for his happiness, as well as for mine. 

ANNIE 

Your happiness? 

DIANTHA 

Clifford's been so good-natured to me since his 
digestion is cured. He used to be a perfect bear, 
so I'm grateful, too. 
ANNIE {graciously) 

Oh, don't mention it, Mrs. Quilter. 

DIANTHA 

Don't call me Mrs. Quilter. Call me Diantha, 

136 



PIE 

Annie. We have so much in common, haven't 
we? 
ANNIE (dubiously) 
Yes. 

DIANTHA 

Come, Annie, dear, you won't sacrifice the hap- 
piness of all of us, will you ? 
ANNIE {sobs) 

Fm just a weak, weak woman! 

DIANTHA 

You'll take him back? 
ANNIE {tearfully) 
I will. 

DIANTHA 

I left him on the street. Til call him. 

{Diantha goes out. The window ^ right, opens from 
without and Clifford tumbles in. Annie, who is 
washing the tears from her face with drinking 
water from a glass pitcher on the table, is startled^ 

ANNIE 

Lor', what a fright you gave me! 
CLIFFORD {excited) 

Your cousin, Dan O'Donahue, has been stand- 
ing at the street door with his night-stick in his 
hand, glaring at me as though he'd like to kill 
me. 

ANNIE 

He wouldn't let you in? 

CLIFFORD 

No. But I fooled him. When he was looking 
the other way, I climbed up the rain spout. 
Annie, dear, will you take me back? 

137 



FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES 



ANNIE {answering everything) 

Indeed I will! My darlin'! {They embrace, 
Dan's head appears at the window^ 

CLIFFORD 

ril never, never leave you, Annie. Never, 
never, never! 
DAN {entering through the window and pulling them 
apart) 

Oh! Won't you! Consider yourself under 
arrest. 

CLIFFORD 

Consider yourself on the street minding your 
own business. 

DAN 

The impidence! 
CLIFFORD {angrily) 

You came in through the window. You'll find 

it more convenient to leave through the door. 

{He pushes Dan towards the door.) 
DAN {eagerly) 

Is it a fight yer wan tin' ? 
ANNIE {separating them) 

Ah! Don't be gettin' mad, Dan. He's comin' 

back to me with his wife's consent, so there's 

nothin' wrong about it any more. 
DAN {suspiciously) 

Isn't there? Why not? 

ANNIE 

Ye wouldn't understand if I explained it to 
you, Dan. I'm not sure I quite understand it 
myself. 

CLIFFORD 

It's all right, Mr. O'Donahue, I assure you. 

138 



PIE 

ANNIE {winningly ^ taking Dan's night-stick away 

from him) 

See here, Dan, IVe got another apple pie in the 

kitchen. Will ye both come in and have some? 

{She places her arms on each of them.) What 

d'ye say, Clifford? 
CLIFFORD {with glee) 

Will I? {To Dan.) There's one thing we both 

agree on, Mr. O'Donahue, and that's Annie's 

apple pie, eh? 
DAN {grinning) 

I guess so. 

ANNIE 

An' there'll always be enough for the both of 
you. 

DAN 

Let's shake hands, Mr. Quilter. And now for 
the pie ! 

{They shake hands and go into the kitchen. Enter 
Dianthay door^ center^ 

DIANTHA {excited) 

Clifford has completely disappeared, and so 
has your cousin. Perhaps they're fighting! 

ANNIE {beaming) 

Sure, they're not fighting. They're eatin' — 
in the kitchen. 

DIANTHA 

Are they? What are they eating? 

ANNIE 

Pie! Apple pie! 
DIANTHA {regretfully) 

Oh! Some of your delicious apple pie! 

139 



FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES 

ANNIE 

It won't hurt you, dearie, it'll melt in your 
mouth like butter! 

DIANTHA 

ril come in a moment. Do you mind if I use 
your phone? 
ANNIE (points to the phone) 
Sure, there it is. 

{Annie^ highly delighted^ goes into the kitchen,) 

DIANTHA {into the phone) 

Farragut 6500. I want to speak to Mr. Aubrey 
Hastings' apartment. {Pause.) Is that you, 
Aubrey? {Pause.) Yes, I fixed it. {Pause.) 
There's absolutely nothing to be alarmed about. 

CURTAIN 



1 40 



LICENSED 

A TRAGI-COMEDY IN ONE ACT 



Licensed was first produced by the Washington 

Square Players in February, 191 5, at the Bandbox 

Theatre, New York, with the following cast: 

Mrs. Ransome Josephine A. Meyer 

Jane Ransome, her daughter Ida Rauh 

Rev. Mr. Tanner, a clergyman Carl Soanes 

Produced under the direction of Mr. Philip Moeller 

Licensed was the opening play of the first bill of the 
Washington Square Players. 



Copyright, 1915 

Bv LAWRENCE LANGNER 

All Rights Reserved 



LICENSED 

SCENE 

The Parlor of the Ransomes* house, in a cheap 
district of Brooklyn, There is a profusion of pic- 
tures, ornaments, and miscellaneous furniture. 
A gilded radiator stands in front of the fireplace. 
Table, center, on which are some boxes and silver- 
plated articles arranged for display. Over the 
door hangs a horseshoe. White flowers and fes- 
toons indicate that the room has been prepared for 
a wedding. To the left is a sofa, upon which lies 
the body of a dead man, his face covered with a 
handkerchief. There is a small packing-case at 
his side, upon which stand two lighted candles, 
a medicine bottle, and a tumbler. The blinds 
are drawn. 

Janet, dressed in a white, semi-bridal costume, 
is on her knees at the side of the couch, quietly 
weeping. After a few moments the door opens, 
admitting a pale flood of sunshine. A murmur 
of conversation in the passage without is heard. 
Mrs. Ran some enters. She is an intelligent, 
comfortable-looking, middle-aged woman. She 
wears an elaborate dress of light gray, of a fashion 
of some years previous, evidently kept for special 
occasions. She is somewhat hysterical in manner 
and punctuates her conversation with sniffles. 

MRS. RANSOME 

My dear child, now do stop cryin*. Won't 

143 



FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES 

you stop cryin'? Yer Aunt Maud's just come, 
and wants to know if she can see you. 
JANET {through her sobs) 

I don't want to see her. I don't want to see 
nobody. 

MRS. RANSOME 

But your aunt, my dear — 
JANET {interrupting) 

No, Mother, not nobody. 

(Mrs. Ransome goes to the door and holds a whis- 
pered conversation with somebody outside. She 
then returns^ closing the door behind her^ and sits 
on the chair close to Janet.) 

MRS. RANSOME 

She's goin' to wait for yer father. He's almost 
crazy with worry. All I can say is — thank God 
it was to have bin a private wedding. If we'd 
had a lot of people here, I don't know what I 
should have done. Now, quit yer cryin', Janet, 
I'm sure we're doin' all we can for you, dear. 
{Janet continues to weep softly.) Come, dear, 
try and bear up. Try and stop cryin'. Yer 
eyes are all red, dear, and the minister'll be 
here in a minute. 
JANET {quieter) 

I don't want to see him, Mother. Can't you 
see I don't want to see nobody? 

MRS. RANSOME 

I know, my dear. We tried to stop him comin*, 
but he says to yer father, he says, "If I can't 
come to her weddin', it's my duty to try to 
comfort yer daughter"; and that certainly 
is a fine thing for him to do, for a man in his 

144 



LICENSED 



position, too. An' yer father — he feels it as 
much as you do, what with the trouble he's 
bin to, buyin' all that furniture for you an' 
him, and one thing and another. He says Bob 
must have had a weak heart, an' it's some con- 
solation he was took before the weddin' an' 
not after, when you might have had a lot of 
children to look after. An' he's right, too. 

JANET 

Oh, Bob! Bob! 

MRS. RANSOME 

Now, now! My poor girl. It makes my heart 
bleed to hear you. 

JANET 

Oh, Bob! I want you so. Won't you wake up. 
Bob? 

MRS. RANSOME {putting her arms around Janet and 
bursting into sobs) 

There — you're cryin' yer eyes out. There — 
there — you've still got yer old mother — there 
— there, just like when you was a baby — there — 

JANET {in a quiety serious voice) 

Mother — I want to tell you something. 

MRS. RANSOME 

Well, tell me, dear, what is it? 

JANET 

You don't know why me and Bob was goin' 
to get married. 

MRS. RANSOME 

Why you and Bob was goin' to get married? 

JANET 

Didn't you never guess why we was goin' to 
get married — sort ol all of a sudden? 

145 



FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES 

MRS. RANSOME 

All of a sudden ? Why, I never thought of it. 
{Alarmed,) There wasn't nothin' wrong be- 
tween you and him, was there? {Janet weeps 
afresh.) Answer me. There wasn't nothin* 
wrong between you and him, was there? 

JANET 

Nothin' wrong, 

MRS. RANSOME 

What do you mean, then? I 

JANET 

We was goin' to get married — because we had to. 

MRS. RANSOME 

You mean — you mean you're goin' to have a 
baby? 

JANET 

Yes. 

MRS. RANSOME 

Are you sure ? D'ye know how to tell ? 

JANET 

Yes. 

MRS. RANSOME 

Oh, Lor'! Goodness gracious! How could it 
have happened? 

JANET 

Fm glad it happened — now, 

MRS. RANSOME 

D'ye understand what this means? What are 
we goin' to do about it? 
JANET {through her tears) 

I can't help it. I'm glad it happened. An' if 
I lived all over again, I'd want it to happen 
again. 

146 



LICENSED 



MRS. RANSOME 

You'd want it to happen? Don^t you see what 
this means? Don't you see that if this gets out, 
you'll be disgraced till your dying day? 

JANET 

I'm glad. 

MRS. RANSOME 

Don't keep on sayin' you're glad. Glad, in- 
deed! Have you thought of the shame an' dis- 
grace this'll bring on me an' yer father? An' 
after we've saved an' scraped these long years 
to bring you up respectable, an' give you a good 
home. You're glad, are you? You certainly 
got a lot to be glad about. 

JANET 

Can't you understand. Mother? We wasn't 
thinking of you when it happened — now it's 
all I have. 

MRS. RANSOME 

Of course you wasn't thinkin' of us. Only of 
yerselves. But me and your father is the ones 
that's got to stand for all the talk there'll be 
about it. Think what the family'll say. Think 
what the neighbors'll say. I don't know what 
we done to have such a thing happen to us. 
(Mrs, Ransome breaks into a spell of exagger- 
ated weepings which ceases as the doorbell rings.) 
There! That's the minister. God only knows 
what I'd better say to him. {Mrs, Ransome 
hurriedly attempts to tidy the roomy knocking over 
a chair in her haste^ pulls up the blinds half- 
way and returns to her chair. There is a knock 
at the door, Mrs, Ransome breaks into a pro- 
longed howl,) Come in. 

147 



FIVE ONE^ACT COMEDIES 

{Enter Rev, Mr, Tanner, He is a clergyman 
with a rich^ middle-class congregation and a few 
poorer members^ amongst whom he numbers the 
Ransomes. His general attitude is kind but some- 
what patronizing; he displays none of the effusive 
desire to please which is his correct demeanor 
towards his richer parishioners. The elder Ran- 
somes regard him as their spiritual leader^ and 
worship himy along with God^ at a respectful 
distance.) 

TANNER {speaks in a hushed voice, glancing towards 
the kneeling figure of Janet) 
Bear up, Mrs. Ransome. Bear up, I beg of 
you! {Mrs, Ransome howls more vigorously,) 
This is very distressing, Mrs. Ransome. 

MRS. RANSOME {bctwccn her sobs) 

It certainly is kind of you to come, Mr. Tanner, 
Tm sure. We didn't expect to see you when 
my husband phoned you. 

TANNER 

Where is your husband now? 

MRS. RANSOME 

He's gone to send some telegrams to Bob's 
family, sir — his family. We'd planned to have 
a quiet wedding, sir, with only me and her 
father and aunt, and then we was goin' to have 
the rest of his family in this afternoon. 

TANNER 

It's a very sad thing, Mrs. Ransome. 

MRS. RANSOME 

It's fairly dazed us, Mr. Tanner. Comin' 
on top of all the preparation we've bin makin' 
for the past two weeks, too. An' her father 

148 



LICENSED 



spent a pile o' money on their new furniture an' 
things. 
TANNER {speaking in an undertone) 
Was he insured? 

MRS. RANSOME 

No, sir, not a penny. That's why it comes so 
hard on us just now, havin' the expense of a 
funeral on top of what weVe just spent for 
the weddin'. 

TANNER 

Well, Mrs. Ransome, Fll try to help you in any 
way I can. 

MRS. RANSOME 

Thank you, Mr. Tanner. It certainly is fine 
of you to say so. Everybody's bin good to us, 
sir. She had all them presents given to her. 

TANNER 

Did he have any relatives here? 

MRS. RANSOME 

Not a soul, poor fellow. He comes from up- 
state. That's why my husband's gone to send 
a telegram askin' his father to come to the 
funeral. 

TANNER 

How long will your husband be? {He glances 
at his watch.) 

MRS. RANSOME 

I don't think he'll be more than half an hour. 
He'd like to see you, if you could wait that long, 
I know. 

TANNER 

Very well. I have an engagement later, but 
I can let that go if necessary. 

149 



FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES 



{Tanner and Mrs, Ransome sit down in front 
of the table,) 

MRS. RANSOME 

It certainly is a great cornfort havin' you here, 
Mr. Tanner. I feel so upset I don't know what 
to say. 

TANNER 

Bear up, Mrs. Ransome. You are not the 
greatest sufferer. Let me say a few words 
to your daughter. {He rises, goes to Janet, and 
places his hand on her shoulder, but she takes no 
notice of him,) My poor child, you must try 
to bear up, too. 

MRS. RANSOME 

She takes it so bad, Mr. Tanner, that the Lord 
should have took him on their weddin' mornin'. 
TANNER {returning to his chair) 

We must not question, Mrs. Ransome, we must 
not question. The Almighty has thought fit 
to gather him back into the fold, and we must 
submit to his will. In such moments as these we 
feel helpless. We feel the need of a Higher 
Being, to cling to — to find consolation. Time 
is the great healer. 

MRS. RANSOME 

But to expect a weddin' {sobs) and find it*s a 
funeral — it's awful! {Sobs,) And besides, — Mr. 
Tanner, youVe always bin good to us. We're 
in other trouble, too. Worse — worse even than 
this. 

TANNER 

In other trouble? 

150 



LICENSED 



MRS. RANSOME 

I just can't bear to think about it. 

TANNER 

Your husband's business? 

MRS. RANSOME 

No, sir. It's— I don't know how to say it. 
It's her and him. 

TANNER 

Her and him? 

MRS. RANSOME 

I'm almost ashamed to tell you. She's goin' to 
have a baby. 
TANNER (astounded) 

She's going to be a mother? 

MRS. RANSOME 

Yes. {Sobs,) Oh, you don't know how hard 
this is on us, Mr. Tanner. We've always bin 
respectable people, sir, as you well know. We've 
bin livin' right here on this block these last ten 
years, an' everybody knows us in the neighbor- 
hood. Her father don't know about it yet. 
What he'll say God only knows. 

TANNER 

I'm terribly sorry to hear this, Mrs. Ransome. 

MRS. RANSOME 

I can forgive her, sir, but not him. They say 
we shouldn't speak ill of the dead— but I always 
was opposed to her marryin' him. I wanted her 
to marry a steady young fellow of her own re- 
ligion, but I might as well have talked to the 
wall, for all the notice she took of me. 

TANNER 

It's not for us to judge, Mrs. Ransome. How 
long were they engaged? 



FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES 

MRS. RANSOME 

Well, sir, I suppose on an' off it's bin about 
three years. He never could hold a job long, 
an' me and her father said he couldn't marry 
her — not with our consent — until he was earnin' 
at least forty dollars a week — an' that was only 
right, considerin' he'd have to support her. 

TANNER 

Yes, you were quite right in that. Dear, dear. 
I'm sorry to see a thing of this sort happen — 
and right in my own congregation. I've ex- 
pressed my views from the pulpit from time to 
time very strongly upon the subject, but now- 
adays our words fall so often upon deaf ears. 
Young people discredit the Church and her 
teachings — it's only in the great crises of life 
that they realize it is we who are right. 

MRS. RANSOME 

You got to remember they was going to get 
married, sir. If you'd bin here only an hour 
earlier, Mr. Tanner, there wouldn't have bin 
no disgrace. {She points to the official-looking 
paper lying on the table.) Why, sir — there's the 
marriage certificate — Mr. Smith brought it 
down from church this morning — all waiting 
for you to fill it in. If you'd only come earlier, 
sir, they'd have bin properly married, and there 
wouldn't have bin a word said. 

TANNER 

That's true. They might have avoided the 
immediate disgrace. But after all, that isn't 
the way to get married. To my way of thinking, 
it isn't so much a matter of disgrace. That 
means nothing. It's the principle of the thing. 

152 



LICENSED 



MRS. RANSOME {eagerly) 

Oh, Mr. Tanner, do you mean it? Do you 
mean that the disgrace of it means nothin' ? 

TANNER 

Well — not exactly nothing — but nothing to 
the principle of the thing. 

MRS. RANSOME 

An' would you save her from the disgrace of it, 
if you could, Mr. Tanner, if it don't mean 
nothin' ? 

TANNER 

You know I'm your friend, Mrs. Ransome. 
I'll do anything I can to help you, within 
reason. 

MRS. RANSOME {eagerly pleading) 

Mr. Tanner, if she has a baby, respectable 
people won't look at us no more. We'll have 
to move away from here. It'll break her father's 
heart, as sure as can be. But if you could fill 
in the marriage certificate as though they'd 
bin married, Mr. Tanner, why, nobody's to 
know that it isn't all respectable and proper. 
They had their license, and ring, and every- 
thing else, sir, as you know. 

TANNER {astounded) 

Fill in the marriage certificate? 

MRS. RANSOME 

They'd have bin married regular if you'd only 
come an hour earlier, Mr. Tanner. Couldn't 
you fill it in that they was married before he 
died, sir? 

TANNER 

But that would be forgery. 



FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES 

MRS. RANSOME 

It would be a good action, Mr. Tanner — indeed 
it would. Her father an' me haven't done 
nothin' to deserve it, but we'll be blamed for 
it just the same. Look at all the years we've 
bin goin' to your church, and never asked you 
a favor before, Mr. Tanner. 
TANNER {with feeling and evident sincerity) 

My good woman, I don't know what to say. 
I'd like to help you, but how can I? In the first 
place, don't you see that you're asking me to 
act against my own principles? I've been 
preaching sermons for years, and making a 
public stand, too, against hasty marriages that 
break up homes and lead to the divorce court — 
or worse. The church is trying to make mar- 
riage a thing sacred and apart, instead of the 
mockery it is in this country today. I sym- 
pathize with you deeply. I know how hard it 
is for you all. But for all I know, you may be 
asking me to help you thwart the will of God. 

MRS. RANSOME 

The will of God? 

TANNER 

Mind you, I don't say that it is, Mrs. Ransome, 
but it may very well be the Hand of the Al- 
mighty. Your daughter and her young man, 
as she has confessed herself, have tried to use 
the marriage ceremony — a holy ceremony, mind 
you — to cover up what they've done. 

MRS. RANSOME 

Oh, don't talk like that before her, Mr. Tanner. 

TANNER 

I don't mean to hurt her feelings, or yours 

154 



LICENSED 



either, but don't you see what a predicament 
you place me in. It wouldn't be right, 

MRS. RANSOME 

But they was goin' to get married, sir. You 
got to take that into consideration. My girl 
ain't naturally bad. It isn't as though she'd 
pick up any feller that happened to come along. 
Hundreds and thousands do it, sir, indeed they 
do, and most of them much worse than she and 
him, poor fellow. 

TANNER 

Yes, there you are right. I may seem hard to 
you, Mrs. Ransome, but what am I to do.^* I 
must stand by my own honest beliefs. 

MRS. RANSOME [pleading hard) 

You can't know what this means to us, sir — 
or you'd do it out of pity for us, indeed you 
would. Her father'll take on somethin' dread- 
ful when he hears about it. He'll turn her out 
of the house, sir, as sure as can be. You know 
him, sir. You know he's too good a Christian 
to let her stay here after she's disgraced us 
all. And then, what's to become of her? She'll 
lose her job, and who'll give her another — 
without a reference — an' a baby to support? 
That's how they get started on the streets, sir, 
{sobs) an' you know it as well as I do. 

TANNER 

My poor woman, I wish I could help you. 
It's very distressing — but we all have to do 
our duty as we see it. I grieve for you from the 
bottom of my heart. I'll do anything I can for 
you within reason. 



FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES 

MRS. RAN SOME {almost hysterical^ dragging Janet 
from the side of the body) 

Janet, Janet! Ask him yourself. Ask him on 
your bended knees. Ask him to save us! 
{Janet attempts to return to the side of the body.) 
Janet, do you want to ruin us? Can't you speak 
to him? Can't you ask him? {Mrs, Ransome 
breaks into sobs.) 

TANNER 

Let her be, Mrs. Ransome. 

MRS. RANSOME 

Janet — what's the matter? Why are you so 

hard-hearted ? 
JANET {rises and turns fiercely on Mrs. Ransome) 
Who's hard-hearted? 

MRS. RANSOME 

I didn't mean to hurt you, dearie. 

TANNER 

I can't tell you how sorry I am for you, Janet. 

JANET 

Well, I tell you straight, I don't want none 
of your pity. 

MRS. RANSOME 

Janet, don't speak like that to him. You're 
excited. {To Tanner?) She don't mean it, sir 
— she's all worked up. 
JANET {her excitement increasing^ and speaking 
in loud tones) 

All right. Mother — I'll tell him again — I don't 
want none of his pity. I c'n get along without 
it. An' if you and him think that writin' 
a few words on a marriage certificate is going 
to make any difference, well — you're welcome 
to. 

156 



LICENSED 



TANNER 

My dear girl. Don't you understand, if it was 
merely a question of writing a few words, 
I'd do it in a minute. But it's the principle 
of the thing. 
JANET (bitingly) 

Huh! Principle of the thing! I heard it all. 
You preached against it, didn't you? It's a 
pity you never preached a sermon on how me 
and him could have gotten married two years 
ago, 'stead of waitin' till now, when it's too late. 

TANNER 

Others have to wait. 

JANET 

We did wait. Isn't three years long enough? 
D'ye think we was made of stone? How much 
longer d'ye think we could wait. We waited 
till we couldn't hold out no longer. I only wish 
to God we hadn't waited at all, 'stead of wastin' 
all them years. 

MRS. RANSOME {shocked) 

Janet, you don't know what you're sayin'. 

JANET 

I do, an' I mean it. We waited, an' waited, an' 
waited. Didn't he try all he could to get a 
better job? 'Twasn't his fault he couldn't. We 
was plannin' to go West, or somewhere — where 
he'd have more of a chance — we was savin' up 
for it on the quiet. An' while we was waitin', 
we wanted one another — all day an' all night. 
An' what use was it? We held out till we 
couldn't hold out no longer — an' when we knew 
what was goin' to happen, well — v/e had to get 
married — an' that's all there's to it. 

157 



FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES 

TANNER {making a remarkable discovery^ supporting 
all his personal theories on the subject) 
Ah! Then your idea was to marry simply be- 
cause you were going to have a baby! 

JANET 

Sure it was. D'ye think we wanted to marry 
an live here on the twenty-five a week he was 
gettin'? We'd have bin starvin' in a month. 
But when this happened — we had to get mar- 
ried — starve or not. What else could we do ? 

TANNER 

Well, I don't know what to say. It seems to me 
that you should have thought of all this before. 
You knew what it would mean to have a baby. 

JANET 

D'ye think I wanted a baby? I didn't want 
one. I didn't know how to stop it. If you 
don't like it — it's a pity you don't preach ser- 
mons on how to stop havin' babies when they're 
not wanted. There'd be some sense in that. 
That'd be more sense than talkin' about waitin' 
— an' waitin' — an' waitin'. There's hundreds 
of women around here — starvin' and sufFerin' — 
an' havin' one baby after another, an' don't 
know the first thing about how to stop it. 
'Tisn't my fault I'm goin' to have one. I 
didn't want it. 

TANNER 

Miss Ransome, your views astound me. 

JANET 

I can't help it. People may think it wrong, 
an' all that, but it ain't his fault an' it ain't 
mine. Don't you think we used to get sick of 
goin' to movies, an' vaudeville shows, an' all 

158 



LICENSED 



them other places — time after time? I wanted 
him to love me, and I ain't ashamed of it, 
neither. 

MRS. RANSOME 

Janet, how dare you talk like that in front of 
Mr. Tanner. {To Tanner.) She don't mean it, 
Mr. Tanner. She don't know what she's say- 
in'. I've always brought her up to be inner- 
cent about things. She must have got all this 
from the girls at the store where she works. 
She didn't get it in her home, that's sure. 

JANET 

No, that I didn't. Nor nothin' else, neither. 
You was always ashamed to tell me about any- 
thing, so I found out from the other girls, like 
the rest of 'em do. I've known everything for 
years and years — except what'd be useful to me. 
If I'm goin' to have a baby it's your fault. 
Mother, as much as anybody. You only had one 
yourself — but you never told me nothin'. 
MRS. RANSOME {speechkss) 
Janet! 

TANNER 

Miss Ransome, this is not a subject I ordinarily 
discuss, but since you know what you do know, 
let me tell you there is nothing worse than 
trying to interfere with the workings of nature, 
or — if I may say so — of God. 

JANET 

Well, Bob said the rich people do it. He said 
they must know how to do it, because they 
never have more'n two or three children in a 
family; but you've only got to walk on the next 
block — where it's all tenements — to see ten 

^S9 



FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES 



and twelve in every family, because the workin' 
people don't know any better. But I don't 
want no pity from anybody. I can take a chance 
on it. I got a pair of hands, an' I c'n take care 
of myself. 

TANNER 

Mrs. Ransome, it's no good my talking to your 
daughter while she's in this frame of mind. 
She appears to have the most extraordinary 
views. There'd be some hope for her if she'd 
show a Httle penitence — a little regret for 
what's been done and can't be undone. You've 
often heard me say in the pulpit that God is 
always willing to forgive the humble and peni- 
tent. 
JANET {with scorn) 

*'God," indeed. Don't make me laugh. {She 
points to Bob's body,) Look at him lying there. 
God? What's God got to do with it? {She 
kneels dejectedly at the side of the couch^ rigid and 
silent. Tanner is obviously touched^ 

TANNER 

Poor girl. I don't know what to do. If only 
she had shown some signs of penitence — some 
remorse for what has happened — I might even 
have gone so far as to have made the entry 
in the marriage certificate — seeing the punish- 
ment she's already had. {He waits J or some re- 
sponse from Janet^ which does not come.) But 
as she is now, I don't see what good it would 
do, so I think I'd better go. 
MRS. RANSOME {appcalingly) 

Oh, don't go, Mr. Tanner. Wait just a minute 
while I talk to her, please. Janet, can't you 

1 60 



LICENSED 

say you're sorry for what you've done? Can't 
you see that Mr. Tanner only wants to be fair 
with you? Come, do it for our sakes— yer 
father and me. You know how hard he s 
worked, how rehgious he is, an' everythmg. 
You don't want to ruin us, do you? Can't you 
see it isn't only yourself that's got to be con- 
sidered? Think of what we've done for you. 
Tell him you're sorry for it, dol 

TANNER 

I really must go. 

MRS. RANSOME 

Just one minute more. Please wait one mm- 
ute more. Janet, what's the matter with you? 
Can't vou see the disgrace it'll be to all of us 
They'll all laugh at us— an' jeer at us. It 11 
follow us around wherever we go. You know 
how folks make fun of your father— because he 
keeps himself respectable— an' saves his money. 
Do you want them to laugh at him? Do you 
want them to be laughin' at you and talkm^ 
about you? Do you want them to be makm 
fun of your baby— an' calUn' it a bastard— 
an' askin' it who its father was? 
JANET (nervously) 
They wouldn't. 

MRS. RANSOME . ^ 

Yes they would. An' all the time he's growin^ 
up the other children in school'll be tormentm 
him, and callin' him names. Didn't the same 
thing happen to Susan Bradley's boy? Didn t 
they have to go an' live out in Jersey, coz she 
couldn't stand it no longer? 
u i6i 



FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES 



JANET {defiantly) 

They went away coz he was always gettin' sick. 

MRS. RANSOME 

Of course he was always gettin' sick — with all 
the devils makin' fun of him — an* makLn' his 
life a misery. Didn't we used to see him goin' 
down the block — with the tears runnin' down his 
cheeks — an' all of 'em yellin' names after him. 
Just think of the baby you're goin' to have. 
D'ye want that to happen to your baby? D'ye 
want them to make its life a misery — same as 
the other one? 
JANET {lifelessly) 
Thev wouldn't. 

MRS. RANSOME 

Of course they would. They'll tease an' tor- 
ment it, just like the other — an' when he's 
old enough to understand — who'll he blame 
for it? He'll blame you for it. {Inspired.) 
He'll blame Bob for it — he'll hate him for it. 
D'ye want your boy — Bob's boy — to be hatin' 
his own father? What'd Bob say? What'd 
he think of you ruinin' his baby's life — an' all 
just because you're obstinate an' won't listen 
to reason. Can't you see it? Just think^ — if 
you'll only say you was in the wrong — an' do 
what Mr. Tanner asks you — he'll forgive you 
an' make everything all right. Oh, Janet — 
can't you see it ? Ask him — beg him ! 

JANET 

Oh, dear. Well — how c'n Mr. Tanner make it 
all right? 

MRS. RANSOME 

You know what I mean. Oh, Janet, it won't 

162 



LICENSED 



take him a minute to write it. If he don't, can't 
you see it'll ruin us all our lives? 
JANET {blankly) 

Only a minute to write it — or it'll ruin us all 
our lives. 

MRS. RANSOME 

Oh, Janet, this is your last chance. Tell him 
you're sorry. (To Tanner^ who has edged to- 
wards the door^ and is about to leave,) Oh, Mr. 
Tanner, please don't go. 

TANNER 

Really, I must. 

MRS. RANSOME 

Oh, sir! I can see she's sorry. You won't 
go back on your word, sir? 

JANET {feigning remorse) 

Let me think a bit. Mr. Tanner, I guess I'm 
in the wrong. It didn't seem to me to be wrong 
—that's all I got to say. I hope you'll for- 
give me. I'm sorry for the way I spoke — and 
what I done. 

TANNER {returning) 

My child, it's not for me to forgive you. Are 
you truly repentant — from the bottom of your 
heart ? 

JANET 

Yes, sir. 

TANNER 

I don't like preaching sermons out of church, 
Janet, but I hope that this has taught you that 
there can be no justification for our moments of 
passion and willfulness. We must all try to 
humble our pride and our spirit. I won't go back 
on my word, but if I give you this chance to 

163 



FIVE ONE-ACT COMEDIES 

start out afresh, you must try to wipe out what 
has happened by living a clean, wholesome, 
useful life. Will you promise me that? 

JANET 

rU try, sir. 

TANNER 

And now, Mrs. Ransome, I suppose Fll have 
to fill out the certificate as though it had hap- 
pened an hour or so ago. I know I may appear 
changeable. But I feel I am doing my duty. 
This may save your daughter from a life of deg- 
radation. I think the end justifies the means. 
But first, let me ask you, who knows that the 
ceremony wasn't performed before he died? 

MRS. RANSOME 

Only me — an' her father — an' my sister out- 
side. 

TANNER 

Can she be relied upon to hold her tongue? 

MRS. RANSOME 

She surely can, sir. 

TANNER 

Well, you understand this is a very serious thing 
for me to do. If it becomes public, I shall be 
faced with a very unpleasant situation. 

MRS. RANSOME 

Oh, I promise you, Mr. Tanner, not a soul will 
know of it. We'll take our dyin' oaths, sir, all 
of us. 

TANNER 

All right. But first let me lend Janet this prayer- 
book. {Takes a prayer-book out of his pocket; ad- 
dressing Janet,) Here's a prayer-book, Janet. 
I'll go with your mother now into the back 

164 



LICENSED 



parlor, and meanwhile I want you to read over 
this prayer. It will comfort you in your sorrow. 
Come, Mrs. Ransome, take the certificate, and 
we'll come back later and discuss the funeral 
arrangements. 
MRS. RANSOME {takes the marriage certijicate) 
Oh, Mr. Tanner, I don't know how to thank you. 
Is there anything I can do in return? I'd be 

glad to. 
TANNER {as he leaves the room) ^ ^ 

We're trying to raise funds for a mission to 
spread Christianity amongst the Chinese. 

(Tanner and Mrs. Ransome go out. Janet closes 
the door. She walks towards the couch, looks at 
the prayer-book, then the couch. She flings the 
prayer-hook to the other end of the room, smashing 
some of the ornaments on the mantle-shelf, and 
throws herself upon the side of the couch, sobbing 
wildly.) 

SLOW CURTAIN 



165 



Stewart Kidd Dramatic Anthologies 

Fifty Contemporary One-Act Plays 

Edited by 
FRANK SHAY and PIERRE LOVING 

THIS volume contains FIFTY REPRESENTATIVE ONE-ACT PLAYS 
of the MODERN THEATER, chosen from the dramatic works of con- 
temporary writers all over the world and is the second volume in the 
Stewart Kidd Dramatic Anthologies, the first being European Theories of the 
Drama, by Barrett H. Clark, which has been so enthusiastically received. 

The editors have scrupulously sifted countless plays and have selected the 
best available in English. One-half the plays have never before been pub- 
lished in book form; thirty-one are no longer available in any other edition. 
The work satisfies a long-felt want for a handy collection of the choicest 
plays produced by the art theaters all over the world. It is a complete reper- 
tory for a little theater, a volume for the study of the modern drama, a rep- 
resentative collection of the world's best short plays. 

CONTENTS 



AUSTRIA 

Schnitzler (Arthur) — Literature 
BELGIUM 

Maeterlinck (Maurice) — ^The Intruder 
BOLIVIA 

More (Federico) — Interlude 
DENMARK 

Wied (Gustave) — ^Autumn Fires 
FRANCE 

Ancey (George) — M. Lamblin 

Porto-Riche (Georges) — -Francoise's Luck 
GERMANY 

Ettinger (Karl) — ^Altruism 

von Hofmannsthal (Hugo) — Madonna Dia- 
nora 

Wedekind (Frank)— The Tenor 
GREAT BRITAIN 

Bennett (Arnold) — ^A Good Woman 

Calderon (George) — The Little Stone House 

Cannan (Gilbert) — Mary's Wedding 

Dowson (Ernest) — The Pierrot of the Min- 
ute. 

Ellis (Mrs. Havelock) — The Subjection 
of Kezia 

Hankin (St. John) — ^The Constant Lover 
INDIA 

Mukerji (Dhan Gopal) — ^The Judgment of 
Indra 
IRELAND 

Gregory (Lady) — ^The Workhouse Ward 
HOLLAND 

Speenhoff (J. H.) — ^Louise 
HUNGARY 

Biro (Lajos) — The Grandmother 
ITALY 

Giocosa (Giuseppe) — The Rights of the Soul 
RUSSIA 

Andreyev (Leonid) — ^Love of One's Neigh- 
bor 

Tchekoff (Anton)— The Boor 



SPAIN 

Benevente (Jacinto) — His Widow's Hus- 
band 

Quinteros (Serafina and Joaquin Alverez) 
— A Sunny Morning 

SWEDEN 

Strindberg (August) — The Creditor 

UNITED STATES 

Beach (Lewis) — Brothers 
Cowan (Sada) — In the Morgue 
Crocker (Bosworth) — The Baby Carriage 
Crony n (George W.) — A Death in Fever 

Flat 
Davies (Mary Carolyn) — ^The Slave with 

Two Faces 
Day (Frederick L.) — The Slump 
Flanner (Hildegard) — Mansions 
Glaspell (Susan)— Trifles 
Gerstenberg (Alice) — The Pot Boiler 
Helburn (Theresa) — Enter the Hero 
Hudson (Holland) — The Shepherd in the 

Distance 
Kemp (Harry) — Boccaccio's Untold Tale 
Langner (Lawrence) — ^Another Way Out 
MacMillan (Mary) — ^The Shadowed Star 
Millay (E>lna St. Vincent) — ^Aria da Capo 
Moeller (Philip) — Helena's Husband 
O'Neill (Eugene)— He 
Stevens (Thomas Wood) — ^The Nursery 

Maid of Heaven 
Stevens (Wallace) — Three Travelers Watch 

a Sunrise 
Tompkins (Frank G.) — Sham 
Walker (Stuart) — The Medicine Show 
Wellman (Rita) — For All Time 
Wilde (Percival)— The Finger of God 

YIDDISH 

Ash (Sholom) — Night 

Pinski (David) — Forgotten Souls 



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Stewart Kidd Dramatic Anthologies 

CONTEMPORARY ONE-ACT PLAYS OF iQii 

AMERICAN 

Edited by Frank Shay 

THIS volume represents a careful and intelligent selection of 
the best One-act Plays written by Americans and produced 
by the Little Theatres in America during the season of 1921. 
Tney are representative of the best work of writers in this field 
and show the high level to which the art theatre has risen in 
America. 

The editor has brought to his task a love of the theatre and 
a knowledge of what is best through long association with the 
leading producing groups. 

The volume contains the repertoires of the leading Little 
Theatres, together with bibliographies of published plays and 
books on the theatre issued since January, 1920, 

Aside from its individual importance, the volume, together 
with Fifty Contemporary One-Act Plays, will make up the 
most important collection of short plays published. 

In the Book are 
the following Plays by the following Authors 

Mirage George M. P. Baird 

Napoleon's Barber Arthur Caesar 

Goat Alley Ernest Howard Culbertson 

Sweet and Twenty Floyd Dell 

Tickless Time Susan Glaspell and George Cram Cook 

The Hero of Santa Maria .... Kenneth Sawyer Goodman and 

Ben Hecht 

All Gummed Up Harry Wagstaff Gribble 

Thompson's Luck Harry Greenwood Grover 

Fata Deorum Carl W. Guske 

Pearl of Dawn Holland Hudson 

Finders-Keepers George Kelly 

Solomon's Song Harry Kemp 

Matinata Lawrence Langner 

The Conflict Clarice Vallette McCauley 

Two Slatterns and a King Edna St. Vincent Millay 

Thursday Evening Christopher Morley 

The Dreamy Kid Eugene O'Neill 

Forbidden Fruit George J. Smith 

Jezebel Dorothy Stockbridge 

Sir David Wears a Crown Stuart Walker 

izmo. Silk Cloth $ 3.7s 
^ Turkey Morocco $10.00 

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Stewart Kidd Plays 

The PROVINCETOWN PLAYS 

Edited by GEORGE CRAM COOK and FRANK SHAY 
With a foreword by HUTCHINS HAPGOOD 

Containing the ten best plays produced by the Province- 
town Players, which are: 

"SUPPRESSED DESIRES", George Cram Cook and Susan Glaspell. 

"ARIA DA CAPO", Edna St. Vincent Millay. 

"COCAINE", Pendleton King. 

"NIGHT", James Oppenheim. 

"ENEMIES", Hutchins Hapgood and Neith Boyce. 

"THE ANGEL INTRUDES", Floyd Dell. 

"BOUND EAST FOR CARDIFF", Eugene O'Neill. 

"THE WIDOW'S VEIL", Alice Rostetter. 

"STRING OF THE SAMISEN ", Rita Wellman. 

"NOT SMART", Wilbur D. Steele. 

Every author, with one exception, has a book or more to his credit. 
Several are at the top of their profession. 

Rita Wellman, a Saturday Evening Post star, has had two or three 
plays on Broadway, and has a new novel, "The Wings of Desire." 

Cook and Glaspell are well known — he for his novels, and Miss 
Glaspell for novels and plays. 

Edna Millay is one of America's best poets. Steele, according to 
O'Brien, is America's best short-story writer. 

Oppenheim has over a dozen novels, books of poems, and essays to 
his credit. 

O'Neill has a play on Broadway now: "The Emperor Jones." 

Hutch. Hapgood is an author of note. A record of the work of the 
most serious and important of all the new theatre movements in 
America. 

New York Sun: "Tense and vivid little dramas," 

Dallas News: "Uniform in excellence of workmanship, varied in sub- 
ject matter — the volume is a distinct contribution to American dra- 
matic art. 

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